


Brightflame

by VVSIGNOFTHECROSS



Series: The Brightflame [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-03-30 00:02:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 155
Words: 158,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13938285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VVSIGNOFTHECROSS/pseuds/VVSIGNOFTHECROSS
Summary: How did Aerion Targaryen go from being a mad Prince, to being relatively sane? Read onto find out.





	1. Aerion I

** Chapter 1: Exiled **

** Aerion 1 **

****

 

Aerion knew that he had made a terrible mistake, but then perhaps the King would find it in his heart to spare him, after all he had spared Aelor that cruel jape he had made some time ago. But then Aelor was not properly a dragon, that idiot was half falcon, something lesser, he needed to be shown that he was okay that there were things that needed to be handled and somethings that didn’t need to be handled. Aerion on the other hand, he was a full dragon and there would likely be some lesson his grandfather would need him to understand. His grandsire was big on lessons.

The doors opened, he was shown in and he bowed before the throne. “Sire.” He said, doing as best as he could to keep a straight face, though he wanted to laugh. His grandsire looked like some sort of fool with that crown atop his head, his belly not as big as his supposed sire’s but big enough to make him seem like a fool and not a King.

The King spoke firmly. “You caused quite the commotion at Ashford, Aerion. You did not think with your brain, instead you acted as if you were nothing more than a brute. You did not behave as befit a Prince of the Blood. You behaved as if you were a common thug. That is something that I cannot accept.”

“The girl was showing a show that had the dragon be slain. How could I stand for such nonsense?” Aerion demanded. Surely his grandsire understood the threats that were there, with the Blackfyres still alive and breathing. Surely he knew what would happen if they were shown to be weak in any way.

“She explained that the show was nothing more than an amusement. The dragon was supposed to represent a Blackfyre.” The King answered in that manner that made Aerion wonder if he were speaking to him as if he were some sort of simpleton, it made his blood boil. “You harmed an innocent girl, and made a disgrace not only of the family, but of yourself. You caused a trial to happen.”

“That wasn’t me!” Aerion protested, that had been Egg and his idiocy, running off with a hedge knight, really!

The King held up a hand. “A trial happened because of your foolishness. And now our dearly beloved son Baelor is dead.” Aerion grimaced, Father had been unwilling to speak to anyone for days after that, he’d not even spoken to Daella and Rhae, and usually he spoke to them all the time. “You are a Prince of the Blood and therefore you cannot be killed, or arrested, but you can be exiled. And therefore with the agreement of your father, our son Prince Maekar, we have decided that you shall be exiled.”

Aerion wanted to laugh, exile? That was nothing to him, nothing whatsoever, indeed he preferred than to remain here at King’s Landing or at Summerhall. He bowed. “Very well, Sire. Where shall I be exiled to?”

“Lys.” The King responded.

Aerion laughed, then quickly sobered up. Lys was perfect, there were plenty of people just like him, not the idiots who fawned over him here. He would be amongst his own people. “When would you like me to leave?” He asked.

“Tomorrow. You shall leave at first light. Lonnel Snow shall be accompanying you.” The King said. Aerion wanted to laugh again, Lonnel was one of his closest companions, the bastard brother of the Lord of Winterfell, who served as Master of Laws on his grandsire’s small council.

“Very well, Sire.” Aerion replied. He bowed when the King waved to dismiss, him turned and walked out of the room, and made his way back to his own rooms, there he burst out laughing. Oh, this would be a very fun exile, he had thought his father might demand him sent to the wall. His father had nearly killed him with his fists after Ashford, and Uncle Baelor’s death. Even cousin Valarr had nearly hurt him. But Valarr was weak, had always been weak there was nothing to fear there. He summoned the servants and ordered them to start packing. He knew his grandsire; he would have to leave at first light. For now, though he intended to celebrate. He walked out of his rooms and prowled down the hallways, revelling in the people bowing their heads before him, recognising him as the Prince he was. Eventually he found Lonnel, the bastard of Winterfell was sat out in the courtyard, sharpening his sword.

He stood up when he saw Aerion. “Your Royal Highness.”

“You’re coming with me to Lys.” Aerion said immediately.

“I know, Your Royal Highness, my brother, Lord Rodwell informed me of that, this morning. He did not say when we would be departing though.” Lonnel replied.

“We leave tomorrow, early in the morning. Now come, let us enjoy the last of the wine that we shall be having.” Aerion said. He knew that there were other things to expose yourself to in Lys, and that would only happen with a clear conscience. Lonnel smiled and followed him as they walked out of the Keep and down into the city properly. For the next few hours Aerion lost himself in the drinking and the whoring that he enjoyed. When he had been sated, he pushed the whore with red hair off his leg, and grabbed Lonnel who looked quite the bit worse for ware, and they made their way back to the keep, the sun was still up, which no doubt meant his father was still in council.

“What hour is it?” He asked the guards at the Red Keep.

“Dinner has been served, and the King and his council are now discussing the ordinances, Your Royal Highness.” A Dornish guard replied.

Aerion nodded, the gate opened and they waked through and made their way back to the keep. Once they were in his rooms, Lonnel passed out on his bed. Aerion remained where he was, he summoned a servant who brought some food, he ate, and sobered up somewhat. Then he put the plates elsewhere and closed his eyes. He awoke as the sun filtered through the windows and hit him in the face. “What hour is it?” He asked one of the servants cleaning the mess from his room.

“The Hour of the Eagle, Your Royal Highness.” They replied.

He shot up, he would need to get going. He bathed and threw on some clothes, red and gold. Lonnel was dressed in green and white. Their things had already been taken to the ship. His grandsire was there with the Master of Whispers, Brynden Rivers, as well as the Master of Laws Lord Rodwell, his father was not there. Aerion bowed. “Sire.”

“Be safe.” His grandsire said, then he stood back. Aerion boarded the ship Lonnel behind him. He turned waved, and then entered the ship properly. There was no point looking back now.


	2. Maekar I

Maekar looked at the paper before him and sighed. He could not think through anything related to work, he continued wondering whether he had made the right decision in fighting against his brother and the hedge knight. Baelor had always had the most annoying habit of being righteous and morally upstanding until the end, and usually he had been right. Looking back at the event, Maekar knew why had had fought for his sons, he had not wanted to believe that he could produce two such reprobates as sons. One was a drunk, and the other? The other was a monster. How this had happened he did not know. Was it some sort of failure? Had he not seen the signs? He knew that after Dyanna had died he had isolated himself from court, but he had always tried to keep an eye on the children. He sighed, there was no point thinking about it now, what was done was done.

Instead he looked up at his father, who had his spectacles on and was reading through various documents. Maekar held up the document he had been reading and said. “You know this taxation document is completely wrong. There can’t be thirty gold dragons going over to the exchequer from Ser Eustace Osgrey, when he owes us some sixty gold dragons. Why has it been kept like this?”

His father looked at him and then said. “I believe that Lord Kayce has not been quite honest with us, and I wished to see proof of this, now that you ‘ve found this document, it should be much easier for us to ensure that he’s done for.”

“So, you deliberately allowed the receipts for Osgrey to be half the amount that they should have been, in order to ensure you had enough evidence to show that Lord Kayce was taking money from the treasury?” Maekar asked, wanting to make sure he had heard his father correctly.

“Yes.” His father replied.

“I see. Should I get Lord Rodwell?” Maekar asked, he was still not sure what he made of Lord Stark, the man was quiet, rarely spoke unless spoken to, and had ensured there was order in the Kingdom. He was a good man, if a bit odd.

Father shook his head. “No, there is no need, the gold cloaks have already been sent off to arrest him. The gateways to the city have been shut, therefore there is no chance of him leaving the city whatsoever.” Father placed another letter on the table and said. “Now, I know that you are still quite tense over what happened at Ashford, so why not tell me, what you would have done, had you been in my place?”

Maekar gritted his teeth, he did not want to think of Ashford, even though the visions of that day ran through his head continuously at night, he did not want to think of the wrong he had done. Of the humiliation, his sons had brought to him and the family, yet he thought of it constantly. He took a deep breath and said. “I don’t think there was anything differently to be done. You acted as you should have done with the information provided. I am merely surprised that you did not have me arrested for kinslaying.”  Father looked as if he were about to protest that, so Maekar continued. “I would have sided with the hedge knight rather than Aerion and Daeron. I knew the moment Aegon came to me that he was speaking the truth, and yet I sided with my older two sons. I chose a side, rather than allow justice to be meted out.” And now his son, his third born son and his hope for the family was off wandering with some random sellsword, who likely didn’t know the first thing about anything.

“You did what you thought was right. And that is all anyone can ask for, Maekar.” Father said, in that manner of his.

Maekar said nothing in response, his grief at Baelor’s death was in control now. If only he had not been so angered by his foolish brother siding with the hedge knight he would’ve controlled himself and attacked others. He’d been going for the hedge knight, and so of course Baelor would come to protect him. His brother could never not protect the innocent. Maekar sighed. He looked at his father and asked. “How has Valarr been doing? Is he managing okay?”

Baelor’s oldest son was not the heir to the throne and Hand of the King as a result, Maekar was not sure what to make of the boy, he seemed charming enough, but he had not spoken during small council meetings and therefore Maekar did not know whether he had the brains to be hand. Father smiled. He always smiled when he spoke of his grandchildren apart from Aerion. “He is doing well enough, he has suggested some things that could be done to improve the lot of the peasants in Oldtown and Dorne, and has also suggested ways to make use of the facilities available at Little Dosk and Brandybottom. He is more interested in the details in the workings of things than the bigger policy proposals that Baelor was interested in.”

Maekar nodded, intrigued by that. “And with the suggestions for Brandybottom, do you think they make sense?” The crown had confiscated Little Dosk and Brandybottom for itself after the first Blackfyre rebellion and Osgrey’s support for Daemon Blackfyre.

“Yes, they do. There are means to produce silver and gold in greater quantities in those towns and I intend to make full use of them.” Father said.

Maekar nodded, with the Blackfyres still out there somewhere, they would need all the resources they could get. The first rebellion had been a deadly close affair, and one that he knew Father did not want to repeat. “Do you think you can keep Aegor subdued for long enough? Can you keep Brynden subdued for long enough?” The rivalry between his two uncles was legendary, it had been there from the time they were all children, indeed Maekar was of the opinion that they were all just pawns in that great rivalry.

“Brynden knows that he has a duty to serve the crown and the kingdom as Master of Whispers. He will not stray from that path and so far our friends in Tyrosh and Lys and Myr have ensured Aegor and Daemon’s family do not have the support needed to try anything.” Father said, a slight tint to his words, Maekar knew father felt guilty for the treatment Daemon’s children were no doubt getting as a result of their father’s treachery. He didn’t feel guilt though. They were part of the threat to his father’s throne. As if trying to distract himself from his worries, father said. “Mariah was asking for you, you should see her before you go for Summerhall.”

Maekar rose, bowed before his father and nodded. “I will. Thank you, Father.” Father smiled and waved him on, he opened the doors and made his way through the Red Keep, wondering whether or not things would get better and if he would ever stop feeling guilty for his brother’s death.


	3. Aegor I

** Chapter 3: Aegor **

****

Aegor read through the letters that his spies had sent. The bastard King no doubt thought that he had dealt a heavy blow to the Blackfyre cause when he had killed Daemon, and whilst Aegor grieved for his brother, and missed him with every breath he took, Daemon was not the end of the rebellion. Aegor had spent years cultivating the network of spies and informants that he had today. His bastard brother, Brynden had not found all the spies, for they hid in plain sight, and that was what made things even more entertaining for Aegor. And the news his spies in King’s Landing had compiled for him was enough to make him smile.

He put the letters down and said. “Baelor Breakspear is dead. The bastard King has lost his best son and heir. Now with him gone, the bastard has only his grandchildren and the idiots that make up his remaining sons. Furthermore Maekar has become something less than what he was before, the spies report that he is being called a kinslayer, for he struck the blow that killed Baelor.” Aegor laughed, Baelor had been a decent fellow for a bastard’s son, and so Aegor had been tempted to offer him something when Daemon had taken the throne, now with him gone, the Targaryens were doomed.

Robb Reyne who had been more Daemon’s friend than Aegor’s smiled in return. “That is good news. With the family divided then things will be much harder for them. Though of course the bastard King will no doubt try and placate those Dornish snakes who continue to control his court.”

Aegor laughed. “The bastard King has his qualities, but that is not one of them. He barely managed to keep his throne when Daemon rebelled, and only did so because of another kinslayer in that family.” The memory of Daemon falling as he tried to get to his sons was a memory that haunted Aegor, more than he cared to remember. He had nearly killed Bloodraven on Redgrass field but had been forced back by Baelor’s charge. Now with Baelor gone perhaps Maekar and Bloodraven’s dislike of one another would prove their undoing.

Daemon’s wife Rohanne spoke then. “What do you intend to do?” Rohanne with her golden hair and green eyes, looked almost like a Lannister, like that girl, what was her name? Myrcella? Some Lannister cousin Aegor had fucked when he had raided the Westerlands alongside Quentyn Ball during the war. That girl no doubt had had his son by now. He would need to find the child and raise him, perhaps that child could serve as Lord of the Rock when they took the throne back.

“I shall continue to sow discord in Westeros. We are not ready for fighting in battle yet. The company has just returned from Qarth.” Aegor responded. The men had proved themselves in Qarth, bringing the city to ruins for the masters refusal to pay the company what was due it. “We need time to recover and ensure our supplies are equal. In the meantime, I shall ensure Peake and Osgrey know what their roles are, as well as Bracken.” Lord Quentyn Bracken was his cousin, through his mother, Barbra, who was somewhere in the lands of Stone Hedge, where Aegor did not know exactly he had not spoken to her in years.

Rohanne nodded and then said. “You know Daemon has been having visions again, he dreams of seeing a dragon being born from a castle, and he insists that it will happen within time.” There was concern in the Queen Dowager’s voice, and Aegor sighed. Daemon had had seven sons, his first two, had been twins named Aegon and Aemon they had died with their father at Redgrass, the third son, named Daemon had been little more than a child as had the others been, he was a bit odd, more prone to fits of dreams and melancholy than anything else. He was the rightful King and he was little more than a fop.

“I will speak with him.” Aegor said simply, not wanting to say anything else on the matter. He did not think this Daemon was worthy of the crown, let alone the sword, he had not joined the campaign against Myr, like his brothers Haegon and Aenys had. That worried Aegor beyond doubt.

Lord Jon Strickland spoke then; the man was a good spy master. “Our friends on the councils of Lys and Myr have informed me that they are unhappy with the tariffs that have been applied to their goods by the Bastard King and his small council. They believe that such things will only harm the trade relationship in the long term, and therefore are looking elsewhere for deals and contacts. Indeed it appears the bastard King has begun moving closer to Braavos and Pentos.”

Aegor laughed. “Fool, he does not realise that Braavos will ensnare him in its web, they do not handle with others lightly. Soon enough Westeros will be a slave to the whims of merchants.” The mere thought horrified him. “I want you to approach them, the council members of Myr and Lys, and inform them of our terms, and see if they will be willing to provide resources.” The Archon of Tyrosh was Rohanne’s brother, Aegor had helped him kill the previous Archon, whose daughter was married to Valarr Targaryen. And this Archon wanted the Blackfyres on the throne.

Lord Jon nodded, Lord Edmund Costayne who served as paymaster for the Golden Company spoke then. “Ser, there is one thing that I might suggest on this front.”

Aegor looked at the man and sighed, he knew what it would be. “Go ahead.” He said.

“With the members of the councils of Lys and Myr they will want monetary guarantees before they take any sort of action, therefore I suggest that we stock up on the gold that was taken from Qarth and ensure it as a guarantee. I know the gold was to be used for other purposes, but this can bring long term benefits.” Costayne said.

Aegor nodded. “See it done.” Costayne nodded in response.

He looked around the room. Daemon had not attended as usual, Haegon had remained quiet and Aenys had not bothered showing up either. Aegor gritted his teeth, this was what he was left with? Haegon would make a fantastic King, that he knew, but Daemon the Younger would ruin them. He needed that boy out of the way. Perhaps Peake could provide some answers.

 


	4. Aerion II

 

** Chapter 4: Aerion II **

****

Lys, the city of angels, the city where dreams were made. There were more people of the old blood here than anywhere else other than Volantis. Aerion had never seen so many people with appearance like his. He drank and whored with the best of them and he was enjoying life to the fullest. There was a certain freedom in being able to do whatever he wanted without needing to worry about who or what he would be shaming. His father was not there to glower at him, and Daeron was not there to mumble about some dream or the other. Aerion had drunk and whored and now he was sat in the house of Lothar Rogare, a distant cousin, and they were discussing all sorts of things.

“You know there was this man, a big brute of a man who came to the council this morning.” Lothar said. He was handsome, with silver hair and purple eyes and a straight jaw. Aerion had dominated him in bed once, or twice. He was a good fuck. “And he said that there was some word that Bittersteel and the Golden Company had sacked Qarth.”

Aerion snorted as he licked at the whore on his lap’s nipple. “You cannot sack Qarth. The walls themselves would prevent such a thing from happening. The only way you could take that fucking city was if you had someone on the inside. And besides, why would Qarth employ the Golden Company, they are out in the middle of nowhere leagues from anyone.”

Lothar laughed. “They were fighting the Meereenese I believe. Something to do with a dispute over slave contracts. The Meereenese employed the Unsullied of Yunkai and the Golden Company defeated them. Then when they came to collect their payment, it seems that the ruling council there refused to pay them.”

“Wait.” Aerion said looking at Lothar. “You’re telling me that the Golden Company defeated the Unsullied? The force that defeated some three hundred thousand Dothraki outside the gates of Astapor?” He remembered reading about that as a child and still not quite believing it.

“Yes that is exactly what I am telling you.” Lothar replied. He then went on. “It seems that the ruling council had forgotten that the walls of Qarth had one weakness, there is a gap underneath the northern gate that can be exploited to allow people in. All it requires is for someone to know where to find it.” Aerion gestured for the man to continue. “And, there were three people on the council sympathetic to Bittersteel and the company and they opened the gate for them. The city guard joined the Golden Company and sacked Qarth. A new council was chosen.”

Aerion whistled. He knew what that meant. If they could sack Qarth, and defeat the Unsullied then the company was not something to be scoffed at. He wondered if Bloodraven and grandfather had been made aware of this. Then he shook his head and went back to the whore. Of course they would know. How many eyes did Bloodraven have? A thousand eyes and one. He pulled back and looked at Lothar and asked. “How did the council of Lys react?” his friend was one of the junior council members, and yet because his father Daegon Rogare served as chief financial officer, he often knew more than he should.

Lothar laughed. “They shat themselves. There is already going to be a meeting to discuss this. Qarth has been left in ruins and the Golden Company is back in Tyrosh. The Archon of Tyrosh is unhappy with the current peace agreement between our cities and wishes to expand into the Disputed Lands. There is going to be war, and if the company is used then Lys will lose.”

A thought came to Aerion then, he was having fun in Lys, but he wanted to get out and fight, and if there was going to be a war, and if he was going to fight against the Golden Company he might get the chance to fight against Bittersteel and if he killed the bastard, perhaps he would get the chance to return home. Looking at his friend, Aerion asked. “Do you think it will come to war?”

Lothar pushed the whore he was fiddling with, off of his lap and said. “I do not know, Your Royal Highness. I think that my father and his colleagues will try and use diplomacy to prevent fighting. Yet, we both know what will happen if Bittersteel has his way. He will fight and he will win. We cannot hope to stand against the Company and what other allies they bring with them. I have already sent word to the Second Sons and the Company of the Cat and the Company of the Rose. So far only the Second Sons have responded.”

Aerion nodded in response. His friend moved to the door. “I shall see you later.” With that his friend left to go elsewhere. Aerion remained where he was for some time, thinking over what he had been told. If the company had beaten Qarth and the Unsullied then they were a great threat. They would likely be led by Bittersteel and the sons of Daemon the traitor. That meant that anyone who could defeat them and kill them would be a hero. Aerion liked being in Lys, truly he did, but he wanted to return home not as someone coming back chastised but as a hero. He finished with the whore, paid her, and then made his way back to the manse. The family had owned it for centuries.  Lonnel was there sleeping, the man had been unwell recently but it seemed to have been clearing up. Aerion shook him awake. “How do you feel about fighting for the Second Sons, Lonnel?”

Lonnel blinked at fixed grey eyes on him. “Where would we be fighting, Your Royal Highness?”

“Why here of course.” Aerion replied. “Tyrosh and Lys are to be at war again, and I think we would do well to join with a company. Lys has no standing army. How does the Second Sons sound to you?”

Lonnel sat up. “Aren’t the Second Sons commanded by your cousin Maynard Plumm?”

“They are indeed.” Aerion replied “And he has a great grudge against Bittersteel.”

Lonnel smiled. “Then let us sign on and fight, and slay a horse.”


	5. Valarr I

The ache of grief he felt at his father’s loss continued to stab him at the most unusual of times. Like right now. Valarr was sat in the council chamber, as Hand of the King- a position he did not feel ready for- and he was caught wondering whether his father would approve of the things he was thinking, of the notes he was making, of the things he would be saying. All of these thoughts hit him, and once again Valarr felt angry, angry that his father had felt compelled to fight and die for a hedge knight. Then he felt guilty for feeling that way. His father had been the best of them, always had been always would be. And the hedge knight had stuck up for the weak and defenceless as any knight was supposed to. Valarr blinked, and looked down at his notes then spoke.

“The sickness is spreading. It is going from one town to the next. There are thousands of people dying in Maidenpool and the Saltpans, and in Oldtown, and the Arbor. It is coming from the ships and the merchants who dock down from the ships. I think it is coming from the rats that were found.”

“Has it been found in King’s Landing?” Uncle Maekar asked. Valarr did not know what to think of his uncle. He had not meant to kill father, Valarr knew, and yet he had fought for Aerion all the same.

Valarr looked down at his notes, suspecting that Uncle Maekar disproved of him doing so. Father had never had to look down at his notes he had simply known what to say and when and to who. “From the reports of the port masters, there have been no sightings of the type of rats that were seen in Oldtown or the Arbor. I have written, as the King requested, to Gulltown and to Dorne requesting that they close their ports, and seal their gates. I am also sending missives out to” he stopped then, coughing violently, he took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped at his mouth. “Apologies. I am also sending out missives to the Lords of the Reach and the Westerlands to request that they close their ports also.”

Lord Ronnel Penrose who had become Lord of Parchments after his father had died in an accident spoke. “That will harm the custom duties and the profits of the treasury.” Penrose was Master of Coin and though he was a smart man, numbers were not his forte, indeed as Valarr looked at the man, he saw a look exchanged between him and his wife Lady Elaena who was Valarr’s cousin.

“It will harm the duties yes, but it is necessary. We cannot afford to have the disease spreading anymore than it already has. We cannot allow for the disease to take root.” Valarr responded. He knew from speaking to Grand Maester Hareth that such diseases could spread into the water and into food, and he did not want that.

Bloodraven spoke then. “It is possible that this disease is the work of Bittersteel. My sources tell me that he has been consorting with various masters of the guild in Tyrosh and even as far afield as the black walls of Volantis, where the magic of Valyria is still practised. Whilst I do not believe that he brought magic into this, I do believe he has used some degree of knowledge we do not have to create the infection.”

“Is this possible?” Uncle Maekar demanded of Grand Maester Hareth, a man who Valarr suspected was part of Bloodraven’s supposed sorcery clique.

Hareth did not respond immediately, but when he did his voice was soft and contemplative. “I believe it is, Your Royal Highness. There are things that we do not yet know about infections and diseases, that members of Volantis and Tyrosh could well know given their more, how do I say? More reflective members.” Valarr winced, there had been a not so subtle jab at Uncle Maekar’s support for the restrictive learning ordinance that grandfather had issued some three years ago.

Uncle Maekar glowered. “What do you suggest? That we relax the restrictions placed on those who would experiment on things that not even the Citadel approves of?”

Before the Grand Maester could respond, Valarr decided to speak. “The King has given his approval to relax the restrictions, in view of removing this disease before it can spread properly.” He turned to look at the Grand Maester. “You and your associates are to test everything that is known and unknown about the disease and find a solution.” The Grand Maester bowed his head in acceptance. Valarr coughed again, this time when he wiped his mouth, he looked at the handkerchief and noticed that there was a smidgeon of blood on it. He quickly put it away.

Bloodraven spoke then. “There is word from across the narrow sea. Lys and Tyrosh are going to war over the Disputed Lands. This time Tyrosh has the backing of the Golden Company, the Company of the Cat and the Brave Companions, whilst Lys has the Company of the Rose and the Second Sons.”

“Didn’t the Golden Company sack Qarth recently?” Lord Rodwell Stark asked in one of the rare moments he spoke.

“Yes.” Bloodraven replied. “With these two cities at war, Myr will now become the main trading centre, and Braavos will invest elsewhere.”

Valarr took the lead then, in between coughing. “So, we shall need to ensure that we have our contacts in Braavos truly compelled to support our bid for greater funding.”

Uncle Maekar did not seem convinced though. “King Aegon the Unworthy laid himself before the Braavosi and nearly got them involved in setting up companies within our lands. We cannot allow ourselves to go too far in that direction again.”

Valarr coughed again, this time there was more blood when he wiped his mouth. He drank deeply from the cup of water at his side and then said. “Naturally. We aren’t idiots, Uncle.” Though he could see where his uncle was coming from, and he worried that perhaps they might not have the strength to make things stick.

 


	6. Aerion III

He’d signed up for the Second Sons with Lonnel and perhaps three hundred of the youth of Lys. They’d all come when they’d seen the banners of the Second Sons approaching. Their commander Ser Maynard Plumm was tall, lithe, silver of hair and with piercing violet eyes, a relative of Aerion’s through his cousin Elaena, he was a fighter who’d served in the Blackfyre War, and then fought numerous campaigns against Tyrosh in the Disputed Lands. Fair to say he was a legend amongst the men. Aerion thought him interesting and someone who could be useful when the time came.

Training for the Second Sons involved sparring practice, hiking through the streets of Lys with backpacks on and getting to know the ins and outs of the city. For Aerion, that was easier than for those who had grown up here. For he had ventured into the gutter and seen the rats and the traitors. The traitors had been hung before they could become as such, by the city council, Lothar Rogare had had a hand in that. And now they waited. The Tyroshi were coming with the Golden Company, and the Company of the Rose. Ser Maynard had brought the Company of the Cat with him.

Aerion kept his sword at his side as he spoke. “When do you think they will move?” He gestured to the camp beyond the wall, where the enemy had set up. “They’ve been here for some two days now and not even bothered to send someone to come for parlay. What do you think they want?”

Lothar Rogare, who was dressed in bright green armour snorted. “They’re not here to parlay, they will come for the walls of the city soon enough. There is an agreed custom between the three daughters, we attack after two days of first setting down a tent. That has been the way since the war that ripped apart our union.” There was a hint of sadness in the man’s voice.

“Why?” Aerion asked, such a concept was foreign to him. In Westeros he knew that the field of battle was chosen depending on where two armies met, not anything else.

Lothar laughed. “Well, you see, in Essos we have this thing called decency. I do not know what it is like in Westeros, but we do not go randomly charging at an enemy. Rules are set out and followed. After the battle of the windblown in 190, we decided against fighting directly out in the open. And now the fighting takes place near or in cities. So, that the people know what they are fighting for.”

Aerion was intrigued by this, in Westeros, since the conquest battles had always been fought on battlefields and rarely fought near or for castles. “And, how do you decide who has been victorious?”

“Either, every man is dead, or one side surrenders.” Lothar replied.

Lonnel who was dressed in black armour laughed. “Seems simple enough.”

Lothar nodded. “Aye and it makes it much easier when it comes time to fight.” Aerion raised an eyebrow at that and the man elaborated. “We might hate one another, but we all have family in Tyrosh or Lys. Myr not so much, which is why they don’t get involved as often. And of course you have the Blackfyres.”

“The Blackfyres aren’t family.” Aerion snarled in response. “Their progenitor was a traitor and an idiot. Bittersteel is a madman, and he will be defeated. If I see him in battle I will kill him.” Aerion knew his words probably sounded quite foolhardy, he’d only ever fought in tourneys not in actual battle. But he was good with a sword and had a cool head. If he could manage it he would.

Lothar smirked. “I think given his reputation and the recent actions he has embarked on, you might well get the chance, sooner than you think.”

Aerion laughed in agreement. A soldier bearing the arms of the Rogare appeared then. “Your Highness, there has been a report from the western gate.”

Lothar immediately straightened. The western gate was where his lover Anders Strongwind was commanding. “What is it?”

“The Dothraki have appeared.” The grunt replied.

Lothar swore, and Aerion couldn’t believe he’d heard that right. “You are sure?” Lothar demanded. “What has Anders done?”

“He has started firing arrows at them and dropping hot oil on them, Your Highness.” The grunt replied.

Lothar nodded. “I want you to send word to the second command and tell them to get their arses over there. I will join you shortly.” The grunt nodded and left. Lothar looked at Aerion and said. “I must go, Your Royal Highness.”

Aerion nodded. “Of course, go.” They clasped hands and then Lothar walked away.

Aerion turned to look at the camp before him, the Golden Company’s banner flew high and proud before them. Aerion looked at it and sighed. He would fight, he felt something stirring in his stomach, nerves perhaps, or excitement. Either way he knew what he had to do. “I’ll make a bet with you, Lonnel.” He said.

Snow looked interested. “I’m listening, Your Royal Highness.”

Aerion looked at him and said. “First person to kill ten people gets a free round. First person to twenty kills gets his choice of the whores in the city. Whoever kills Bittersteel will get four hundred gold dragons from the other.”

Lonnel hesitated and then nodded. “Agreed.”

Aerion smiled. He intended to get four hundred gold dragons from Lonnel, indeed if he remembered correctly the man owed him some money from their gambling. Just as he was about to bring that up, he saw movement in the camp of the enemy. Figures were emerging, dressed in armour, and one figure, with black hair and an even blacker stare was prominent for how everyone flocked to him. Aerion looked at the figure, seeing the gait and the walk of the man. A horn sounded somewhere in the distance. He crossed himself then said. “It begins.”

 

 


	7. Bloodraven I

** Chapter 7: Bloodraven I **

****

The city stank of rotting corpses and the sickness. How it had come to this he did not know. Bloodraven had done all he could, ships had been searched, those found carrying illness were killed, those who searched the ships were killed after reporting to him outside the city. He had done everything, used every spell, everything he could to ensure the sickness did not come back with him. Perhaps Bittersteel’s spies were within the city. Bloodraven had long known about them, and fed them false information, but perhaps he had gotten more than Bloodraven had thought. Half the realm was dying under this damned sickness, and there was nothing he could do.

He sighed. “You know they are already blaming me for the sickness.” He heard Shiera sit up and wrap her arms around him.

“Who cares what they say. The common people can be guided by the right word here, and the right word there. You will handle that.” Shiera replied.

“I’m the Master of Whispers, a kinslayer and a sorcerer but I couldn’t stop this damned sickness.” Bloodraven whispered, fighting the fear that threatened to consume him.

“You can’t kick yourself over it. You are not Maekar.” Shiera replied.

Brynden snorted. They both knew Maekar hated himself for surviving whilst Baelor had died. That there had been tension between Maekar and Valarr over that same fact and the role the man’s sons had played in the death of Breakspear. “Valarr and Matarys are dead. Aerys is the King’s heir, and Aerys does not want to rule. He will not name Maekar hand.” And that would anger Maekar and his followers at Summerhall.

“What will you do?” Shiera asked.

Brynden sighed. “I will have to remain at court, and I will take the position that the King offers me.” He thought about that statement then said. “That Aerys offers me.”

“Even if it risks alienating Maekar?” Shiera asked. They both knew that Maekar had gotten the Marcher lords on his side during his time as Prince of Summerhall, they also knew Summerhall was not a summer palace anymore but a veritable fortress.

“Yes.” Brynden replied. “The realm must come before any personal feelings.” He knew that would not sit well, Maekar already mistrusted him, for something that had happened when they were both children. There was a knock at the door, Brynden called for whoever it was to enter. His squire Alester Blackwood stood there his eyes averted. Brynden  threw the cover over himself and Shiera and said. “Yes?”

“The King is calling you, Ser.” Alester replied.

Brynden nodded, Alester went outside. Brynden got out of the bed and dressed. He kissed Shiera briefly, then walked out. He arrived at the King’s chambers shortly afterward, finding Ser Willem Wylde and Ser Gwayne Corbray of the Kingsguard standing guard outside. He nodded to both of them then entered the room. The room did not smell as it had done the last time, the King was lying in bed, his eyes closed. Brynden kneeled at his side. “You summoned me, Sire?”

The King opened his eyes, they were very pale. “Are they dead?” the King asked.

“Yes Your Majesty, the Queen and their Royal Highnesses are dead.” Brynden replied.

The King looked pained, he had been married to Mariah Martell for forty years and now she was gone. “At least they are no longer suffering.” That was the King always thinking of others wellbeing, even Daemon’s, the bastard who had not deserved such love and care. “How is the city?”

“The bodies are burning in the dragon pit, the Alchemist Guild has agreed to come under the crown’s complete purview from now on. I’ve issued ordinances preventing more people leaving their lands. The Riverlands and the Reach have been badly affected.” Brynden said. Leo Tyrell had massacred some five hundred peasants who had tried to flee into the Stormlands, though the King did not need to know that.

“I see.” The King replied, taking a deep breath. “You will have a lot of work to do when I am gone.” Brynden wanted to protest that, to say that the King would survive this, but truthfully Brynden did not know whether the King had the will to continue. The Grand Maester had also died during the sickness, and the citadel had not yet sent a new one. He would need to address that. “I have spoken to Aerys about his duties as King. If he does not do his duty in regards to Aelinor, you must do it for him.”

That surprised Brynden, what was the King suggesting. “Sire?” He asked surprised. This must be the sickness, the King would never suggest something such as this otherwise.

The King grabbed his hand then and looked him directly in the face. “You must either give Aelinor the freedom she desires, or you must ensure Aerys provides her with a child. Otherwise things will become madness. Rhaegal, sweet dear Rhaegal is not fit for the Kingship and his children would be under the influence of Alys, and whilst she plays nice she is very much her father’s daughter. Lord Donnel wants his daughter as Queen. We cannot have more partisanship.” The King coughed. “I have learned from Daemon.”

Brynden nodded. He knew that Aerys would never do that willingly, therefore he must be made to see sense through other means. “Now, send Maekar in, I must speak with him.” Brynden bowed, and left the room. The Fourth son of the King was stood outside, he nodded at Brynden, then entered the room. Brynden leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the King’s room. His thoughts were a rush with everything. Aerys would be King, Aerys would name him Hand, Maekar would sulk and move to Summerhall, and then from there what would happen? He would need to deal with the Sickness, he would need to convince Aerys to have a child with Aelinor, and then he would need to ensure Bittersteel died. And he would need to prevent war breaking out between the Starks and their various cadet branches, now Lord Rodwell was dead.

The door opened, Prince Maekar walked out and said. “The King is dead.”

Brynden nodded and felt a tear drip down his cheek. The only father he’d ever known was dead.


	8. Maekar II

His father was dead, and his brother sat the throne. Not Baelor, no Baelor was still dead, the blow Maekar had struck had still killed him and no matter how often Maekar prayed before the Seven to bring his brother back, they did not answer. No, his brother Aerys was King, and there was a man most unsuited to the position. Aerys preferred books, he had never even attended a council meeting in the moons that he had been able to attend them. He preferred his books over his wife as well. Maekar knew that whoever became Hand of the King would rule the realm, and though he did not want the throne he knew the only way to prevent the realm going to chaos was if he took the position as Hand. Bloodraven was obsessed with Bittersteel and would ignore everything else.

Aerys had been crowned King some two weeks ago, and had not yet named a Hand. Their father had been burned as had Valarr and Matarys, the council had met and Maekar as the senior Prince of the Blood had dictated what needed to be done. Aerys had not attended that, but he had summoned Maekar to his chambers. Maekar stood before his brother, waiting for his brother to finish reading. When the man eventually did so, he closed the book and said. “I’ve decided on who I am naming Hand, brother. I did not want the throne, Baelor would have made a much better King than I. Therefore, I need someone who I can count on and someone who knows the laws of the Kingdom to the very minute degree.” Maekar felt himself puff up with pride then, he knew this would come. “I need someone who will ensure that there is peace and prosperity within the realm and will do what it takes to keep the peace with Bittersteel still out there.” Maekar wanted his brother to hurry up and get on with the announcement. “That is why I have named our uncle Brynden as my hand.”

 Maekar deflated, Bloodraven as Hand? This must be a mistake, why would Aerys name their bastard uncle as Hand over him? “Why?” He demanded.

Aerys shifted as he always did when he didn’t want to address something difficult. “Brynden knows more about the realm. He served father very well as master of whispers, and has organised the clean up of the city since the sickness came. He knows more about the kingdom than anyone else, including you.”

Maekar stared at his brother, wanting to scream, wanting to yell. Instead he simply said. “Brynden is also a kinslayer and someone who is despised by almost everyone throughout the realm. He also is obsessed with Bittersteel. You cannot seriously tell me that you believe his obsession with that man is healthy, or good for the Kingdom.”

“If it keeps the family and the throne safe, than I will gladly indulge in his obsession.” Aerys responded. “You fought Daemon Blackfyre and Bittersteel, you know just how close they came to taking everything away from Father. Brynden knows more about them than you or I. He must have everything in his power to ensure Bittersteel cannot bring his spawn and Daemon’s children here.”

“And if that means the rest of the kingdom gets ignored? You might not know this, Your Majesty, but there is a world out there beyond Bittersteel and your books. There is a world out there filled with your subjects you are scared and terrified of the sickness destroying the land and their homes and families. They need leadership.” Maekar replied, thinking of Aegon and wondering where his youngest son was.

Aerys did not say anything immediately, instead he picked up another book and looked through the pages. Maekar stood there battling with anger and rage. His brother was being an idiot. Bloodraven would focus on Bittersteel and everything else would be ignored. He had not held a small council position during their father’s reign, but he had served as an advisor due to his blood. He wanted a position on the small council at least, if not the handship. He would not sit as an advisor anymore. Aerys broke the silence. “I have sent word to Tybolt Lannister asking him to come to King’s Landing to serve as Master of Laws to replace Lord Stark.”

“And what of me?” Maekar asked masking his rising fear that he would not be given a role, under a layer of calm nonchalance. “What role will I have?” Lord Penrose was still alive, the Master of Ships was dead, and been replaced by Lord Redwyne. And the citadel still hadn’t declared who the new Grand Maester would be.

“You will remain as an advisor due to the blood we share.” Aerys replied.

Maekar felt as if he’d been slapped. “A mere advisor? Your Majesty I am the most senior Prince of the Blood, now that our father confirmed Rhaegal as being within a more junior rank due to his condition. You would keep me in the role I had as a young man? Why? What wrong have I done you?”

Aerys eyes flared then, a rare sign of angry from his usually placid brother. “You killed Baelor. You did not have to fight for Daeron and Aerion, but you did. You did not have to go for Baelor the way you did, but you did so anyway. Your pride has gotten the better of you brother, and I do not want such a man on my small council.”

Maekar felt as if he’d been struck. “Is that an order of dismissal, Your Majesty?” He asked as coldly as he could, though inside he shook, just as badly as he had felt when his grandsire had hit him when he’d been a child.

Aerys picked up his book again. “Yes. Take the girls with you. And do not return unless I command it.” Maekar bowed and stormed out. Within the hour he had ordered his things packed and his girls were ready to go, Daeron was back in Summerhall. Aemon at the Citadel, Aegon somewhere, and Aerion in Lys. Maekar mounted his horse sometime later, and then left the Red Keep. He wouldn’t come back again ever if he could help it.


	9. Beron I

Beron had never thought that he would become Lord of Winterfell, his brother Rodwell might not have had children with Myriame, but those two were still young and they lived with one another in King’s Landing, and as such Beron had always thought they’d have children sooner or later. He’d been looking forward to simply serving as Steward of Winterfell and then maybe moving to Moat Cailin, as Rodwell had said he could once he had returned from his short term appointment in King’s Landing. But now his brother was dead, and without issue, therefore meaning that Beron had to become Lord of Winterfell.

He looked at his wife, Lorra with her dark brown hair, and her heart shaped face, they’d been married when they were both thirteen some fourteen years ago now, and he loved her fiercely. She was his chief confidant in all things. “I am not sure whether I can do this.” He said to her in the privacy of his solar. The children were either at lessons or asleep. “I feel as though I am not prepared whatsoever for this.”

Lorra took his hand and said. “You’ve been serving as Rodwell’s representative for  four years since he went south, you’ve settled disputes between Karstark and Bolton and Umber and Long. You know these men and they know you. You have no reason to feel nervous.”

“I mean, yes rationally I know that, my dear, but there is something about being a steward and being the actual Lord that is quite different and it is that that terrifies me.” Beron responded.

“Why?” Lorra asked, she was straight to the point as always his wife, it was one of the things he loved about her, unlike other southerners he’d met, even his own brother’s wife, though she was a Manderly, his wife did not play about with words, she got right to what she meant.

“I am scared. There are a lot of divisions within the north still. The Skaagosi are not a threat not since uncle Barthogan dealt with them.” Beron said, he’d gotten his first taste of battle during that fight some fifteen years ago.  He’d watched his uncle get cut down. “But there are still leftovers from when my uncle Jonnel was Lord of Winterfell. Edric and Serena are still out there somewhere, and Umber and Cerwyn have always wavered in committing to my family. Hell, Lord Hothar Umber was betrothed to Arrana before the war.” That war that haunted his dreams, the war that had taken place whilst the south tore itself apart. His grandsire Cregan Stark had never sorted out his will. “I know that we were very fortunate not to get tangled up in fighting in the south, but things continued on like this for some time and I know they are out there somewhere, and I do not know whether we can hold them back.”

“You have the support of the Karstarks, the Manderlys, the Glovers, the Flints, the Wulls and almost every other house. Edric and Serena can say what they like about the rights, but they supported the wrong man when they rebelled and they must suffer for that. None of the other northern houses will support them.” Lorra replied. Beron raised an eyebrow, and Lorra continued. “Your brother is friends with Prince Aerion Targaryen and though he might be out of favour now, he is still Prince Maekar’s son and the Prince has his brother the King’s ear. Should it come down to that, then you can always appeal to the throne.”

Beron snorted. “If I appeal to the throne for aid, then the lords will not even consider me worth their time. You know that. You know that the northern lords do not think very highly of the King on the Iron Throne. They thought nothing of King Daeron. They respected maybe even feared Baelor Breakspear. But we all know what King Aerys is, and he is not the sort of man one can rely on. I had to execute Domeric Bolton, the heir to the Dreadfort for communicating with Bittersteel.” And that had soured relations with the Dreadfort, the man’s father Lord Harlon was a fiery man, a complete contrast to his son, a fiery man and passionate who would not be above siding with Edric and Serena.

Lorra kissed his hand. “You have five sons, all of whom are approaching the right age for marriage. Edric and Serena’s children are adults but have spent some of their time fighting in sellsword companies, that we know of. And that very fact is something that Lord Manderly, Lord Karstark and even Lord Umber said made them less attractive options.”

Beron snorted, he remembered that conversation, it had been very awkward and one that he had tried to avoid thinking about for some time. Instead he changed his focus to another issue. “Lord Ryswell has written to me to report that there have been an increasing number of Ironborn longships spotted near Sea Dragon Point. Lord Mormont has written of the same. I think Dagon Greyjoy is planning something, but I do not know what. And I cannot outright challenge him.”

“Because of the Censor Ordinance?” Lorra asked.

Beron nodded, the Censor Ordinance was something that King Daeron had issued some ten years ago declaring that any and all suspicious activity from one lord paramount suspected by another should be reported directly to the crown. “Already Lord Lannister has reported something similar to King’s Landing and the King and his hand have ignored it. They are more focused on Tyrosh, and Bittersteel.” Beron could not even raise men to build ships without approaching King’s Landing first, and that would also go against the Censor Ordinance.

“Then perhaps it is time to approach one of the Goodbrothers?” Lorra asked. “You know they have never liked Dagon.”

Beron snorted, that much was true, he’d fought alongside Eustace Goodbrother once long ago, and the man had given him a fairly detailed account of what had happened once on the Iron Islands when Dagon Greyjoy came to power. “This is true, perhaps they would be someone I could reach out to.” Lorra nodded and smiled, Beron felt slightly more at ease, though the concerns were still there.

 


	10. Aerion IV

For three moons the pattern had been the same. The enemy would attack, they would fight and then they would retreat. Men had died, pyres had been built and Aerion had made friends and then lost them. Yet here he was still alive alongside Lonnel, neither of them had been able to keep their bet, Bittersteel had not appeared before them and there had been no sallying out as there would have been if this was Westeros. It was getting frustrating, though it was also incredibly informative, he was learning patience. Aerion knew that sooner or later they would need to break this monotony and that neither side had enough food or money to keep going forever.

He ran a hand through the beard he had started growing, it was a wisp of white, and he sighed. “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.” Lonnel looked at him and raised an eyebrow. Aerion took a breath then looked at the men around him. In the three moons since he’d been in the Second Sons he’d risen quickly through the ranks. He was now a Major of the Second Sons and had some two hundred men directly under his command. Some of those men were looking right at him. “I believe that we need to push forward and engage them directly. Tommen, what word have you gotten from the fourth company?”

Tommen Waters was the bastard brother of Damon Lannister, the Grey Lion and he had been fighting for the Second Sons for many years, he was a captain and therefore junior in rank if not experience to Aerion. “Sir, there have been reports that the Golden Company are close to breaking. They are being worn down on the third and fourth gates, and Bittersteel continues pushing for things that his men just can’t do. As for the fourth company themselves, well Sir, they’ve pushed the Dothraki out.”

Aerion snorted. The Dothraki had come and been pushed back some five or six times now. But they’d never actually tried to force the fourth and fifth companies to engage in actual combat. Clearly they didn’t want to fight. “What of the Company of the Cat?” He asked then, deciding that he would leave the Dothraki for others to handle.

“Sir, they are currently engaged in storming the gates of the fifth and sixth centres.” Tommen Waters replied. “I believe that Lothar Rogare and his men are dealing with them.”

No doubt Lothar and his lover were fighting the Cat, let them fight. Myr had joined the fighting on the side of the Tyroshi, and that had surprised everyone considering the animosity between those two cities. Clearly the council of Lys had done something to anger both cities. Aerion did not much care about that though. He caught sight of the banner of the Golden Company and reached his decision. “I want the men prepared and ready. We are going to be sallying out.”

Tommen Waters nodded. “Yes Sir.” The man disappeared barking out commands.

Lonnel who was a captain in the Second Sons spoke then. “Are you sure that is wise Your Royal Highness?”

“I think we need to break this stalemate and if we can break the company then we would be well advised to do so.” Aerion responded.

Lonnel said nothing, but Tommen returned and said. “The men are prepared and the gates are opening, Sir.” Aerion nodded, and walked down the steps. There would be no horses within the city at war time, and therefore they would be fighting on foot. His squire handed him a shield. He took a breath, prayed to the warrior for strength, then he barked out the command to march.

As one they marched, their shields rising as they did so. The Golden Company stood before them, their men in formation also. He could not see Bittersteel, but he did not care. He would fight and he would kill whoever came in his way. The enemy came closer and closer. “Form shields.” He barked. The shields locked against one another as they had practised countless times. They crashed into the enemy. As shields hit shields, swords came and jabbed through gaps. Aerion blocked one such jab, and returned, hearing someone grunt, then another person and another. “Push forward.” He barked as someone on the other side did the same.

It had become a campaign of strength, with one side pushing forward and the other side pushing back. There were actions, men would fall on either side and others would come to replace them. Aerion knew that this action would not last for very long, such engagements never did. Sure enough within what must have been an hour, the shield walls had fallen and the soldiers had resorted to fighting in the Westerosi style. Aerion’s sword had cut through some two or three men but the tiredness he felt from the shield wall meant he took a fair few blows himself. It was only after he had cut down a man he thought might have been a Reyne that he remembered his helm was in the city itself. He laughed and cursed his own stupidity. He imagined dying here on this place of dirt and sand after so many moons of surviving in the city. Lonnel was somewhere nearby swinging his mace with impunity. Aerion took a breath and plunged back into the fighting.

He did not know how much time had passed as he fought men, some of whom were as old as his father, others who were as young as him. There was a boy, a squire he supposed, with golden hair, no older than Aegon who Aerion killed. Gutted and Aerion watched as the boy’s eyes widened at the realisation that he wouldn’t return. Aerion knew somewhere that boy’s mother would be expecting him to return and now he never would. He caught a glimpse of Bittersteel, a man with a winged helm, the man fought with intensity and indeed, for a moment they locked eyes, but then Bittersteel disappeared. Aerion did find himself fighting someone with the black dragon on his armour, the man was no fighter though and soon enough surrendered. The Golden Company had retreated. Aerion dragged the fighter back with him into the city.

“Who are you?” Aerion demanded.

The man’s helm was removed and silvery hair fell out. His eyes were a startling purple. “I am Daemon Blackfyre, the rightful King of Westeros, son of the Black Dragon.”


	11. Bloodraven II

** Chapter 11: Bloodraven II **

****

 

The sickness continued to eat away at the kingdom. Brynden knew that bodies were piling up in the Riverlands, the Westerlands and the Reach. He knew the north had suffered as well. King’s Landing had not escaped either, there had been a great deal of body burning going on within the Dragon Pit. He ran a hand over his face, fighting to prevent a yawn from appearing. Once he had stifled that, he spoke. “Gentlemen, we all know why we are here. The sickness continues unabated. Lord Redwyne, have you managed to contain the ships as I asked?” Lord Redwyne was more capable as Master of Ships than his predecessor had been, mainly due to the fact that he had spent most of his life on a ship.

“I have, my lord.” Redwyne answered. “Those ships found carrying anything from Myr or Tyrosh have been sunk and their crew drowned. They will not be coming onto our land anytime soon. However, there is still the issue of renegade ships coming from Braavos.”

“Surely, you don’t mean to imply that the ships from Braavos are carrying more of the disease?” Lord Tybolt Lannister asked, the man’s father had died during the sickness, and though he’d not been to the Westerlands, the man assured Brynden that his brother Gerold was handling it as appropriately as he could.

“I think it would be wise to be cautious.” Redwyne responded.

“What benefit could there be to the Braavosi of sending ships that could harm us?” Lannister asked.

“The Sealord wouldn’t be sending them, but the Iron Bank might.” Brynden answered. “They know that we are not going to be taking out any loans with them now, and they wish to force us to do something foolish so as to get Bittersteel and his lot on the throne.” The ambassador that Brynden had questioned had said as much.

The citadel still hadn’t sent a new maester, and therefore when Lord Penrose spoke, there was nothing more that Brynden could say. “How are we going to contain the sickness?”

“By doing the same as we have done previously. The sickness will eventually peter out.” Brynden said. He could by looking at the men on the council that they did not approve. They also didn’t approve of Aerys never being at council meetings. But there was nothing they could do. Brynden decided to change the topic. “There has been the cease fire between Lys and Myr. The Myrish have decided they’d rather resume trade and are now considering siding against Tyrosh. And there has been another development.” This one particularly pleased Brynden. “Daemon Blackfyre, son of the pretender has been captured.”

Everyone sat up straighter then. “Who captured him?” Lannister asked.

“His Royal Highness Prince Aerion.” Brynden said, that the Prince was fighting for a sellsword company did not need to be mentioned.

“That is perfect, what will happen now?” Lannister asked. Brynden suspected the man wanted to get revenge for the insult dealt to his father all those years ago.

Brynden thought over how much to mention to the council, whilst he could not be done for treason if he withheld information, he knew that the council would not appreciate it. Therefore he decided to tell them the whole truth without revealing the whole truth. “I have sent forth negotiators to Lys to negotiate the release of Daemon Blackfyre into our custody, if successful the man will be returning on a ship of the royal fleet and spending the rest of his life in a cell in the capital. Furthermore, I have also negotiated a deal with the Lyseni that means that our exports will be charged at a lower rate. Bittersteel is currently trying to pressurise the Archon of Tyrosh to force the Lyseni to do a prisoner exchange, but they are not conceding anything trade wise.”

“So, there will likely be another war between Lys and Tyrosh over this issue?” Lannister asked, an odd tone to his voice.

“I believe that Tyrosh cannot take another war. Their financial resources are strained, keeping the Golden Company and the exiles with them has placed a huge burden on them. The Archon has already reached out stating that he would expel Bittersteel and his exiles in return for the lifting of sanctions.” Brynden said.

“I would advise against that, my lord.” Lannister said. “After all, the Tyroshi don’t give us anything that we cannot make ourselves. Their dyes have been replicated in Lannisport, their helmets are being made within the Reach. We do not need them.”

“The Kingdom cannot also afford having Bittersteel and his ilk within the city either. They can spread discontent and ensure that the Tyroshi support them in their attempts for the throne.” Brynden countered.

Lannister sighed. “The city gives us nothing.”

“Regardless, I will keep the Tyroshi talking until Daemon Blackfyre is safely within our custody. Nothing more, nothing less.” Brynden answered. With that he rose, and walked out of the small council chamber. He stopped briefly in the tower of the hand to collect a book, then made his way to the King’s chambers. Ser Roland Crakehall and Ser Tom Costayne stood guard. The Lord Commander was inside the room. Brynden nodded to the three men then sat down next to the King. “I found the book, Sire.” He said.

“Does it say the things you thought it would?” The King replied without looking up.

“Yes.” Brynden replied, pushing the book in front of the King. “It says that for the Prince to be found, there must be a great comet in the sky, that there will be a clashing of stag and wolf, and that the lions will roar when insult is dealt to them, for their cub will have been slighted.” Brynden suspected that the truth was within the words, but his visions had given him no further insight.

“So we must push Stark and Baratheon together?” The King asked. “Does, Baratheon have a son?”

“Lord Baratheon had four sons and three grandsons, Sire.” Brynden said.

“Very good, we shall get them talking then.” The King said. Brynden said nothing, unsure of whether such a thing would be right.


	12. Daemon I

****

He was kept in comfortable confinement, his room was guarded with three men from the Second Sons who answered to the usurper’s grandson. Daemon knew that he should be worried and be kicking himself for having been captured, but really he was just relieved to be away from Bittersteel’s grasp. His uncle did not really like any of them, he remained with them in honour of the father that Daemon couldn’t even remember. The man he was named for, the man who cast such a large shadow over them all. The door opened and Daemon looked up and found himself staring at a mirror image. The man before him also had silvery gold hair, and had piercing purple eyes.

“Aerion.” Daemon said simply.

“Blackfyre.” The man responded.

“I take it you have come to speak with me before I am sent to King’s Landing?” Daemon asked. He had been looking forward to that visit, a chance to return home. Mother had told him he had visited the place once when he was very small, he did not remember doing so.

Aerion Targaryen did not bother responding, instead he grabbed a chair and sat down. There was an arrogance to the other man, a surety that Daemon remembered seeing in his brother Aegon. “Why did you allow yourself to be captured?” the man asked.

Daemon smiled, the others had not asked him that, they had thought that Aerion had captured him and though Aerion had not corrected them and neither had he, he found it amusing. “I had a vision, that this would happen. When I was still in a boy I dreamed of my brothers dying at the hand of Bloodraven, and I knew before my father rode of for war that I would never see him again.” He saw something like surprise pass over his captor’s face. “Your brother Daeron shares similar visions, doesn’t he?” Even in Tyrosh word of Prince Maekar’s drunken son with the dragon dreams reached them.

Aerion nodded. “So, you decided to be captured, and surrender your honour and your dignity to an enemy that you claim to hate. You still have not answered this.” Daemon smiled, he could tell that Aerion was just as stubborn as his father was said to be, and just as stubborn as Haegon was.

“Because I needed to be captured. Mainly to get away from Bittersteel.” Daemon said. That caught Aerion’s interest and so Daemon continued, he would provide some useful information  before being sent to King’s Landing and the chains that awaited him. “Bittersteel has become obsessed with seating a member of my family on the throne. It does not even matter which one of my father’s sons he places there so long as he does so. This war with Lys that he arranged was merely an excuse to get the soldiers in the Golden Company ready for a future war. I needed to get away from him. I knew he would try and kill me, because I am not what he thinks a King should be.”

The thought seemed to amuse Aerion Targaryen, for he grinned and asked. “And what sort of man are you?”

He thought of Alyn Cockshaw and the kisses they had shared behind his father’s keep when they were small, and he sighed. “I am not the sort of man to wage a war for a throne. I do not want the throne.” There was a snort from Targaryen and Daemon continued. “The throne is my right, but I would make a terrible King. I do not have a head for the politics and the stomach for the war that would be needed to keep the thing. My brother Aegon would have made a good King, and my brother Haegon would also make a good King. Therefore, I wished to remove myself from my brother’s path.”

Aerion cocked his head. “You assume that the King will kill you.” There was something like contempt in the man’s voice as he spoke of his uncle, that was interesting to Daemon and he made a note of it.

“I do not think the usurper’s son will kill me, but I do think that Bloodraven will when my usefulness runs out. The man wants to prevent another uprising, but he also wants Bittersteel dead and the only way he can do that is by getting the man to fight a rebellion, he cannot do that if I am alive. Therefore once Bloodraven has gotten all the information he can from me, he will put me aside and then there will be another war.” Daemon said.

“You seem awfully sure of that.” Aerion replied, there was doubt in the man’s voice and Daemon sighed.

“I have seen it. I know what will happen to me, and my family, but I know there are ways to change it. Coming to King’s Landing is one of those ways, I was supposed to be captured at a tourney in Whitewalls but now instead I shall be in the Red Keep’s blackest cell.” Daemon responded, he would not get to see Alyn, not for another two years at least if his dreams were correct.

Aerion did not respond, instead he looked outside and said. “You must leave now.” They both stood up, Aerion held onto his arm and they walked out of the room, down the steps and toward the port, with soldiers and peasants staring at him.

As they walked Daemon asked him. “What will you do Aerion Targaryen?”

Targaryen didn’t respond for a moment, then he said. “I will make a name for myself and ensure that nothing happens to damage my family.”

Daemon grinned. “You have a long journey in front of you.” With that he was passed from Aerion’s possession into that of the Westerosi wearing the sigil of the usurper. He waved and walked onto the ship and back to a home he had not seen for years. He would see Alyn soon, and that made this whole thing worthwhile.


	13. Maekar III

Summerhall was a towering fortress. It had once been a palace that his father had built as a retreat during the summer, but once Maekar had married Dyanna, he had been given the palace and turned it into a castle. None would be able to take the castle unless they knew the secret entranceways and only Maekar knew them, he had ensured the builders had had their tongues removed after the building had been completed and their hands removed also, so they could not speak. He had relished the time he and Dyanna and their children, but then Dyanna had died and now their children were nothing more than disappointments. Their eldest two anyway.

Maekar pushed that thought away and read through the letters on his table, then he looked up at Maester Edgen. “Well? What word has there been from the marcher lords? Are they complying with the regulations?” Regulations set down by Bloodraven, regulations that were doing more harm than good.

Edgen came from the Vale, and had a slight limp he had served Maekar for twenty years now, and was one of the few people Maekar trusted. “They are Your Royal Highness. Though Lord Caron continues to insist that doing so is making the sickness worse, not better.”

Maekar snorted. “Of course, Caron would complain about this even if it were his own father or son dying from the sickness. The man does not like spending money.” Maekar replied, even though he agreed with the man. These measures were going to be costly, the sickness was still spreading, and they were experiencing a famine the likes of which would be incredibly difficult to get over. “What else?” He demanded.

Edgen looked through the scrolls in his sleeves, how the man managed to keep everything on he did not know. “There was a letter from Maester Garrett in the Citadel. His Royal Highness Prince Aemon has passed his exam and is now training for the Iron Rod.”

Maekar nodded, he had not wanted Aemon sent off to the Citadel, but his father had insisted on it. Saying that having too many Targaryens around the capital was just as bad as having too few. He remembered the argument that his mother and father had over that. Maekar had been grieving Dyanna’s death and had not stood his ground. He regretted that, but it seemed his son was doing well there. “What word has there been from Lord Baratheon, has he considered the proposal?” Maekar had sent word to Lord Baratheon to discuss marrying Daeron to one of the man’s many daughters.

“Ser Lyonel Baratheon is the one currently handling all the correspondence from Storm’s End, Your Royal Highness. It appears Lord Baratheon is too ill, and with his older sons having died from the Sickness, it seems that things might be going that way.” Edgen replied. Maekar raised an eyebrow. “But onto the matter at hand, it seems that Ser Lyonel in his father’s name would be amenable to such a marriage.”

“Good.” Maekar said, whilst he’d quite like to arrange a marriage between Daeron and Valarr’s former wife Kiera, he did not think such a thing could happen now, not with the disfavour that Aerys had shown him. That still rankled him, the fact that their bastard uncle had been given the handship, when by rights it should have been his. “What else?” He demanded.

“Lord Stark has written to you, Your Royal Highness, to ask for your assistance in convincing the King to send a force to stop Dagon Greyjoy from his raiding.” Edgen said handing the letter to Maekar.

Maekar laughed. “I think Lord Stark is looking at this the wrong way, I cannot do anything to get my brother or his hand to look to stop Dagon Greyjoy. They are both stuck trying to figure out how to deal with the threat of our other uncle.” He knew that Bittersteel was a threat, but to ignore everything else and focus simply on that was madness.

“What do you wish for me to write to him?” Edgen asked.

“Write to him saying that I shall speak with my brother, the King and I will see what I can do. In the meantime he must apply the Curious Ordinance to the land of the north.” Maekar said, knowing that the Curious Ordinance would draw even more protests but not knowing what else to say, the ordinance had ensured that curfews would be put in place and every man of fighting age had to be trained. Maekar suspected Dagon Greyjoy wanted to go for the long haul.

“Very well, Sire.” Edgen said making a note of that. “There is nothing more.” Maekar nodded, dismissed Edgen with a wave of his hand and then got up himself.

As he walked out of his study he heard something clatter in another room. He followed the sound and opened the door to find his son, Daeron passed out drunk, a glass of wine in his hand. His anger rose. “Enough of this. Guards.” Two guards came into the room. “Help me.” He demanded, they grabbed his son’s legs whilst he grabbed his arms. They walked out of the room and down the steps into the courtyard. “Open the gate.” Maekar barked. The gate opened, and Maekar walked out with the guards, they dropped his son off in front of the gate. “Dismissed.” Maekar said, he looked at his son’s prone form, there was a bit of spit forming on his mouth. Maekar sighed. “If you insist on behaving as a drunkard, then you can live as one.” He turned and walked back. “Lock the gate.” The gate closed and was locked. “Do not open it until I give the order.” He told the gates men. They both nodded and he walked back to his solar.

 He sat back down and looked at a painting of his wife and sighed. “What did I do wrong? Where did I go wrong, Dyanna, that our son is a drunkard?”


	14. Shiera I

The cold could not harm her, nor could the heat of this sickness. The waves of the Great Spring Sickness would die out before the year was done, Shiera knew this, as did Brynden, but the others did not. and as with many of them they were too ignorant to truly understand or appreciate anything of note that went beyond their short term concerns. Shiera sat up in bed and wrapped her arms around Brynden’s well-muscled torso. He leaned back into her embrace, he was tense, with the weight of the Kingdom on his shoulders she was not surprised.

“Have Lannister and Penrose backed down?” She asked, they were the two who had pushed the most for more active efforts.

Brynden sighed. “Lannister has had to return to the Rock to take the reins of power. His brother is struggling and his father is dead. Penrose is doing as Elaena says, and so he is backing down for now. But Redwyne is dead, and so I think that Velaryon will need to take the position again.”

“Is that not a good thing?” Shiera asked. She knew their cousin, Lord Monford Velaryon, he was a proud man, someone who had once courted her, he had been young when his father had died, but he knew more about the seas than his father had and he hated the Blackfyres.

“Yes, but it also means that there will be more discontent within the realm. They already think I pay too much attention to the affairs of the East.” Brynden said, sounding tired.

Shiera kissed his cheek and moved forward so she was looking at him, her arms rested on his shoulders. “Who cares what others think? You are the Hand of the King, to a King who cares more about his books than ruling. The Blackfyres are the greatest threat to the realm since the Dornish, the time will come to handle these other issues, but that is not now.”

Brynden sighed. “I know that, my love. But I fear that the more I put off facing these other issues, the higher the chances are that someone will move to Bittersteel’s side.”

“Even with Daemon Blackfyre in chains beneath us?” Shiera asked. Daemon Blackfyre had arrived a week ago, he had said nothing, but had been thrown into a black cell and Brynden had kept the key on him at all times.

“Even then. I have already stopped three attempts on his life. Bittersteel wants Haegon to be King.” Brynden said. “And I fear others might join him.”

Shiera considered this, there was a serious issue there that the work they had put in, that the hours that both she and Brynden had put in to ensuring that the line of their brother Daeron remained on the throne could be overturned because of a few short sighted fools. She considered this and then said. “I could aid you in convincing them to remain firmly on our side.” Brynden raised an eyebrow, and though she knew he wasn’t jealous, she felt an old flush of anger. She stamped it down. “Not like that, but with magic. There are potions and spells that can be used to give people loyalty without question, without them wondering why this has changed.” It was one of the few things her mother had been able to teach her before she had died.

Brynden looked as though he was seriously considering it. Her lover did not always use magic, though he was skilled with its uses, he did not think magic had a place in the new world that was coming. “I think that if you can do it as discreetly as possible then you should. We cannot risk the throne, not with Maekar still not responding to the letters I send him.”

“Why is Maekar acting like such a child?” Shiera demanded. She had never quite liked her nephew, she had found him far too presumptuous and too filled with some sort of loathing that she could never understand considering his rank and station in life.

Brynden sighed. “He believes he deserved the right to serve as Hand as he is Aerys brother. He believes, rightly that many of the lords are terrified that my being Hand of the King means that I will not focus on the realm. He wants to keep the dynasty on the throne just as much as we do. It is just that his approach is different.”

Shiera laughed she wanted to ask how Brynden knew that, considering he and Maekar had never been close, but then she knew how he knew. He had always been good at reading people. “So, what do you plan on doing then?”

“Convince Aerys to finally have a child with Aelinor. It is not too late, she is not yet forty namedays old, and neither is he. There is still a chance that something can be done.” Brynden said.

Shiera fought down the jealousy that flared within her as the thought came to her mind, she knew she wasn’t being fair, she had had other lovers, but Brynden had never touched another woman. “You could always do the deed for him. I am sure he would accept it. And Aelinor is so desperate for a child, I am sure she would accept you as  well.” Mousy haired Aelinor, the thought repulsed Shiera but she fought that down.

Brynden looked horrified at the suggestion. “I do not think that is something I wish to pursue.” There was something in his face that suggested hurt at the fact that she had suggested that. “I was thinking perhaps you could create something that would make Aerys desire his wife.”

Shiera nodded, she was relieved, but didn’t show it. “When would you want this thing done for?”

“Today?” Brynden asked. “I know Aerys is going to visit Aelinor.” Shiera nodded, she got up, and started mixing the ingredients together within a little vile, it took a few moments and then the potion was done. She put it on the table and said.

“Give this to him, tell him it will help him see his dreams more clearly.” Shiera said.

Brynden nodded, then got up and kissed her. “Thank you. You might just have saved the kingdom.”


	15. Beron II

** Chapter 15: Beron II **

****

The war he had feared had come. Dagon Greyjoy an ambitious man with ideas far above his station had decided he wanted to raid and conquer. And with the King and his hand focused on events across the narrow sea, there was no point expecting the throne to intervene. Therefore, as Dagon had raised the western coast, and the Westerlands, Beron had summoned the banners and prepared for the inevitable war. His lords had come and now they were going to deal with this threat once and for all.

Beron looked around the room, saw the men gathered, knew that this was the final test he would have to undergo. “My lords, the north is threatened. Not by wildlings, but the Ironborn. We can expect no help from the throne and Prince Maekar has written to say that his hands are tied. Lord Lannister has agreed to aide us and has mustered men to fight the Ironborn in the Westerlands. I have plans to handle the Ironborn where they stand within the north. I would hear your thoughts on these plans.” Beron took a breath, then continued. “The Ironborn have attacked Flint’s Finger, they have raided along Sea Dragon Point and scouts report that they are planning on disembarking and taking wood from the Wolfswood.” He looked around and assessed the men present, Bolton and Karstark both shared the same hungry expression, Umber looked wary, and Cerwyn seemed hesitant. “They are also making attempts to take Moat Cailin. I have given instructions to Lord Manderly to march with his host of men to defend the Moat, the Cranogmen have agreed to do the same. I intend to command a host and lead it toward the Wolf’s Wood to lead the Ironborn toward the dry patches of land and to destroy them. Lord Mormont has agreed to hit their ships. Lord Umber,” the man looked at him then surprised. “You shall take your men southwards to Torrhen’s Square and aid Lord Tallhart in defending it.”

Lord Osric looked surprised at this. “Do you think that the Ironborn will try to attack Torrhen’s Square my lord?” The man was not thick and indeed Beron feared him more than he did Bolton.

“I believe that the Ironborn are trying to gather as much information as possible. They need the wood that the Wolfs Wood provides, but they also need something else. My spies report that Dagon Greyjoy wishes to bring about the empire that the Hoares had. Therefore, he needs to know where each kingdom’s weakness is. He will try and take Torrhen’s Square to expose those weaknesses. I have ordered Lord Ryswell and Lord Dustin to prepare an attack on the Ironborn base in Stony Shore.” He had received no word from them though and so his nerves were growing.

Lord Umber spoke then. “Surely, my lord, it would be better for me to accompany you on this attack on the Ironborn within the Wolfswood, after all, I know the Wolfswood, Lord Cerwyn could garrison Torrhen’s Square given his family ties to the Tallharts.” Beron suspected he knew what was behind the man’s unwillingness to venture to the Square. His sister had been meant to marry Lord Tallhart’s older brother, then the man had died and Tallhart had married someone else.

Beron fought back a sigh, he wanted to express his frustration but he knew that doing so could be seen as a weakness. Instead, what he did was take a breath then say. “My lord, I understand your concern, but your fighters are known to be good with arrows and their spears. They will be needed in Torrhen’s Square, with the castle undergoing work. You must use the knowledge you have gained for good use.” Beron wanted to bring up how Umber had gotten that experience, but he did not. Umber bowed his head, a sign that he was conceding the point.

Bolton spoke then. “My lord, with the Ironborn spreading, do you think perhaps we would be best waiting for them to spread themselves too thin?” Beron raised an eyebrow, unlike his predecessor who had very much been about attacking there and then, Lord Hoarfrost Bolton was very much about waiting and seeing, his eyes were cold and dead, at least Beron thought so. Bolton continued. “The Ironborn are a great sea faring people, they are not much on land. Eventually they will need to return to their ships, or they will make a risk.”

Beron saw the point the man made, but he disagreed. “I believe that the Ironborn have had enough time whilst the rest of the realm has been busy fighting one another, they have observed us and our ways and means. They are attacking not in some confused rabble, as they did during the time of my grandfather, but in a more coherent manner, representative of Harren the Black and his ancestors. We cannot allow them to gather more of a foothold. They must be stamped out now.”

Bolton conceded the point, and it was Hornwood who asked. “When shall we be leaving, my lord?” Hornwood was a great bear of a man, with big arms, and an even bigger head.

Beron considered the question, there were numerous dates that they could leave at, but the stars had given him a clear indication. “We leave on the morrow, both hosts.” With that he stood and left the room, allowing the others to think and do as they wanted, he knew his spies would inform him of any plots.

Much later, in his wife’s rooms, as he held Lorra in his arms, she asked him. “How do you think it will go?”

Beron sighed, finally allowing himself to think about the fears he had. “I think it will go well, provided Umber does not break. I am more concerned about him than I am about Bolton. If that doesn’t tell you all you need to know.”

His wife turned so that they were facing one another. “Be safe, my love, and come back to me.”

Beron kissed her lips then and murmured. “I’ll try.”

 


	16. Edric I

** Chapter 16: Edric I **

****

 

Edric remembered the nights at Winterfell with Jonnel, sitting and drinking ale, and talking about how they were going to change things. How they were going to improve the work their father had started. He wondered how they had gone from that to Edric rebelling with half the north against Jonnel. Edric hadn’t killed Jonnel, but he had ordered his death. Their brother Barthogan had defeated him and then the King had sent him away to exile. Edric, his wife and niece Serena, and their children, Cregard, Torrhen, Aregelle and Arrana had been exiled. They’d ended up in Lys, then Tyrosh then Lorath. Where he’d joined the Company of the Rose and was now their commanding officer. Edric ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

“The war with Lys did not go as planned. We can all agree on that.” He looked around, saw Umber nod, Bolton nod, his sons nod, and even his headstrong wife nodded also. “The question is where do we go from here. Cregard what word do you have for us?”

Cregard was short, as short as Jonnel had been, but he was clever, and had a spy network that would rival Bloodraven’s. “It appears that the Archon of Tyrosh has finally reached an agreement with Bloodraven and has expelled Bittersteel and the Golden Company from his city. Consequently, they have set up camp near Volantis, though not within it. And are currently scouring for contracts. The Archon is currently facing re-election and therefore could well benefit from some extra force. However, there are some more pressing matters for us. Mainly that the Council of Lorath are facing internal turmoil. Our friend Borros is seeking to become the chief leader of Lorath, whilst he is opposed by our other friend Severus.”

Edric considered the issue, Lorath was nothing more than a backwater, but it was their home and had been the home of the Company of the Rose for centuries. He took a breath then said. “We shall need to speak with Severus and ensure he understands why he needs to stand down. Borros would make a great leader of the city of Lorath and he would also ensure that we have the strength needed to return home.”

Torrhen Umber, the descendant of the Great Giant, spoke then. “You do not mean to support the Blackfyres, do you, Sire? They did not hold ground the last time, and they do not seem to have anything but designs on the south.”

Edric thought over this question, the Company of the Rose wanted an independent North, they did not want anything else, and he knew that being King of the North was something that appealed to him, but at the same time, not everyone in the north itself wanted independence. “I think that we shall see what they are doing and then we shall act accordingly. However, what we first must know is what the usurper in Winterfell is doing.” His brother Brandon had written to him after their brother Barthogan had died on Skaagos asking if he wanted to return and take Winterfell. At least, Edric had thought it had been his brother, he’d later learned it had been a trap set by Bloodraven. He had thrown the letter away.

Cregard answered that question. “Beron Stark has raised men to fight the Ironborn who have begun occupying parts of the north. It seems he is having a difficult time convincing some of the northern lords to fight under his banner. They fear he is too southernized.” There was deep satisfaction within his son’s voice at that.

Cregard Bolton, the oldest surviving member of the Company of the Rose, aged eighty-nine and someone who had fought across Essos for seventy years, spoke then. “Whether or not they support his banner is irrelevant, the Ironborn are invading so they will support him until the Ironborn are driven out. What you need, Sire, is to have him die. His children are younger than your own. The North does not like child lords, and despite what the dragons might have implemented they cannot stand the thought of such a thing. Kill off Beron Stark and his wife who is nothing more than a southerner will be the new regent.”

Edric nodded. “I shall see to it that our spies within his ranks have their way.” Edric rose, and so did the others, he took his wife’s hand and they walked out of the room to their own private room. Where they sat down. Edric looked at Serena, she was four years older than him, and still as beautiful as the day they had married, and she was smarter than ever. He had never known whether their marriage was right or wrong within the eyes of the gods, he had just known that he had loved her for as long as he could remember. “What do you think?” He asked, wondering not for the first time whether she lamented not marrying Jonnel, they had always been close, and Jonnel had always been handsome.

His wife tucked her feet under her and replied. “I think that you are wise to wait, our people do not respond well to foreign invasions and after two hundred and ten years away from the north that is what the Company of the Rose is, despite the names of our members. You need to wait until there is an actual foreigner ruling as regent. Who will you get to do the deed?”

Edric sighed, he might not like the fact that it was Brandon’s son sitting in Winterfell, and not him, but he still balked at this. He took his time thinking over the options, then said. “I shall ask Roderick Flint to do the deed, the man has always been loyal to us.” And he was half in love with Serena, but Edric did not mention that.

Serena took his hand then. “A smart choice, my love.” Edric looked at their hands and then at her and smiled, still after all these years, he was thankful that she had agreed to marry him.


	17. Aegor II

** Chapter 17: Aegor II **

****

The war between Tyrosh and Lys had ended badly, the Myrish had betrayed Tyrosh and then the Tyroshi had been forced into an embarrassing stalemate Daemon had been captured, or rather given himself up for capture. Aegor had no complaints about that, the boy was an idiot and not right in the head. But the capture had put a dent in one part of his plan, mainly having Daemon die and then rebelling in Haegon’s name to seek justice. Now that had been put down, but he suspected that Bloodraven would eventually crack under strain. Then the Golden Company had been expelled from Tyrosh, and had found solace in Selhorys, though the insult rankled. They needed work and it seemed that they had found some at least.

The commanders of the company, and those of Daemon’s sons who were adults were gathered in his tent. “Speak.” Aegor commanded and Ser Preston Greenfield spoke.

“We’ve scoured the area, my Prince, and we’ve found a bidder from Yunkai who is prepared to offer three hundred thousand golden dragons for the services of the company against the Meereenese.”

“What is the cause of their war?” Aegor demanded, usually the slaver cities got on quite well, clearly something was disturbing them.

“It seems there has been a dispute over an election within the Slaver’s Community and they wish to settle it with force.” Greenfield replied.

Aegor looked around the tent, and nodded, Haegon spoke. “The people of Yunkai are known for their fair payment and their willingness to give more than they originally asked. I think that this would be a good contract to have.”

Aenys Blackfyre, the more studious of Daemon’s sons and the one Aegor thought reminded him the most of Bloodraven spoke. “I think that going for this contract would help.”

Now that was a surprise, Aegor decided to accept it and said. “We shall accept the contract, when do they wish for us to get there?”

“Within the moon.” Greenfield said.

Aegor nodded, and looked at Ser Corwyn Grafton. “I shall arrange the ships with the Volanteene.”  

Aegor grunted his thanks then turned attention elsewhere. “Now, I have had word from our friends in Westeros. It appears that Bloodraven the Kinslayer and the weakling he has propped up as King have alienated the weakling’s brother, Maekar.” Aegor was not surprised he remembered Maekar, the boy had always been easy to insult, it made no surprise to him that the man would be just as easily insulted. “Maekar remains in Summerhall behind his walls.” Aegor remembered burning the lands around Summerhall during the first rebellion, he would have loved to kill the man. “The kinslayer has spent most of his time questioning Daemon about what he knows of our operation, but of course the boy has remained silent. I believe that Bloodraven will soon snap.” He kept the relish out of his voice. Instead he allowed his words to settle. “Stark and Lannister are fighting the Ironborn without the throne’s help. The sickness that has infected Westeros continues unabated and my sources report the peasantry and the lords are growing restless.” That was a huge positive. “We shall soon have the opening we need. Strickland what word do you have from Peake?” Peake had been desperate to raise a rebellion as soon as he could.

Strickland flicked through the papers he had and said. “My Prince, Peake writes to say that he could raise some three thousand men at once, and another four thousand from his own lands if given the time. He says Hightower could well raise more.”

Aegor raised an eyebrow. Hightower was someone who had committed to both sides and to neither during the first war, so Aegor wondered what had changed. “And what word is there from Tyrell?” Lord Leo Longthorn Tyrell was a fine soldier and commander, a man who Aegor had been sure would side with Daemon during the first war.

“He is ailing, my Prince, and his son Ser Matthos has shown no inclination to fight a war other than to get the Florents out of his lands.” Strickland said.

Aegor considered this, the Florents always claimed Highgarden was their right, even though the steward at the time of the conquest had been married to the Gardener King’s daughter. Aegor ran a hand over his beard and said. “Approach the Florents, and propose a marriage.” He thought through this, his daughter was of an age to be betrothed, but not married and he could always change tack.

Strickland nodded. “Yes, my Prince.” The man hesitated and Aegor suspected something more was about to come. “Ser Eustace Osgrey has married Rohanne Webber, my Prince uniting those two lines and bringing much more wealth to his house.”

Aegor hummed, he’d had word from Ser Eustace many moons ago that this would be his attempted policy, he wondered whether there would be any children from the union. “The man remains true to the cause?”

“Yes, my prince.” Strickland said.

“Good, let him enjoy his new wife.” Aegor said. He flicked through the letters on his table then said. “You are all dismissed.” The men got up and bowed before leaving, apart from Haegon who remained. Haegon was Daemon’s fourth son and he reminded Aegor of Daemon the Most, he was slim, but muscled, and his arms were bigger than Redtusk’s had been. He had long silvery hair, and piercing violet eyes. He was the dragon come again, just as Daemon had been. “Your Royal Highness?” Aegor asked.

“I think that we are making a mistake by not placing more men in the Red Keep.” Haegon said. “We must have spies breathing down Bloodraven’s neck. I know you said he would know, but he does not know why Daemon allowed himself to be captured.”

Aegor snorted, this whole plot that his nephew had supposedly cooked up was just another sign of how mad he was. Aegor felt well to be rid of him. “And what do you think Bloodraven would do if he did discover the real reasons?” Aegor asked his nephew, the man he wanted to crown King. “Do you think he will simply let him go? No, he will have him tortured and then killed. It is better we allow those at court to turn to us willingly than place spies there.”

He could tell his nephew wanted to protest, but thankfully the boy sighed and acquiesced. “If you think it is for the best.” With that the boy turned and walked out. Aegor relaxed in his chair, and looked at the wound he had taken in Lys, the thing was turning black.

 

 


	18. Aerion V

** Chapter 18: Aerion V **

****

The sun was high in the sky, and the heat was oppressive, even for him. The other members of company that he commanded were sweating and dripping, and he, well Aerion was fighting hard to not sleep, it was so hot. For three days they’d been undergoing training in the plains between Myr and Lys, and as a commander of a company of the Second Sons, Aerion was responsible for ensuring that everyone knew what they were doing. He had fifty men under his command, including Lonnel, and most days this was good, some days it wasn’t.

He cleared his throat. “Report.” He barked.

Ser Gaston Dryone, a man from Dorne, spoke. “Your Royal Highness, we have thirty litres of water to see us through the next day of training and seven buckets of food as well. The men are prepared to go the distance.”

Aerion nodded, wiped the sweat from his brow. “And what of the fourth and eighth companies?” Those were the two companies that they were in opposition to  in this game that the overall commander of the Second Sons had ordered.

“They are present within three clicks of here, Your Royal Highness.” Lucifer Star said. “They are building rams and other such weapons to create some sort of siege equipment.”

“That’s not a surprise.” Lonnel said. “After all, the fourth’s general is obsessed with sieges.”

Aerion nodded that much was true. “What of the eighth? Has their commander agreed to support the fourth?” If that had happened, then Aerion knew they would need to move forward and quickly.

Lucifer shook his head. “The eighth are fighting one another, I think they’ve gotten some sort of dispute over payments.”

Aerion laughed, the eighth were led by the bull headed, Gerold Merryweather, a man who was known for his strength and his cunning. “Very well, I want the men up in formation before the hour is over we must be prepared. I think the eighth will come down as quickly as we would.” Star nodded and the orders were barked out. Aerion then turned to Lonnel and asked. “How are you doing?” They’d received word that Lonnel’s brother Beron had marched off to fight the Ironborn.

His friend shrugged. “Well enough, I think that things might be alright in the north. The Northmen might not feel comfortable with Beron or his wife, but they hate the Ironborn more.”

“Why was there so much discontent over your father being named Lord of Winterfell?” Aerion asked, his friend had never really explained it when they’d been in King’s Landing or Summerhall, perhaps now away from the gossip of court he would.

His friend ran a hand over his face and then replied. “My cousin Serena was married to an Umber before my uncle Edric, and then when that man died, she married Edric, it was something of a love marriage, but also one my grandfather Cregan felt was necessary. My other uncle Jonnel had no children by either of his wives, so everyone thought that Edric would inherit, but then Jonnel implemented some sort of tax, with King Daeron’s agreement that angered the northmen. Edric rebelled to remove that tax, but he lost. My uncle Barthogan and my father kept the tax in place. Then Rodwell went to King’s Landing to serve on King Daeron’s small council, and Beron remained in Winterfell, but with a southern wife.”

Aerion mulled over this then said. “So, correct me if I am wrong but a lot of this anger stems from a tax?” Lonnel nodded. “And this tax is still in place?”

“It was when Rodwell was alive, I’m not sure if Beron has removed it or not.” Lonnel replied. “There is also this feeling amongst some of the lords of the north, that the Starks are too southern focused, that my grandfather wanted far too much to show influence in the south. They passed that onto their children and now grandchildren.”

Aerion had to laugh at that. “The north has been involved in one war in the last two hundred years since the conquest, and that was the Dance. Yes Rickon Stark and some five hundred northmen fought in Dorne, but that was that. There has been no other involvement of the Starks or the north.”

Lonnel shrugged. “I never said it was rationale.” His friend took a swig of water, then looked up.

Aerion followed his gaze, and found himself looking at Borros Gunthor. “What?” Aerion demanded of the small slightly fat man.

“Men approaching, they aren’t part of the company.” Gunthor panted.

Aerion barked out orders, and the men stopped their fanning about and stood up, grabbed their weapons. Aerion marched forward, his morning star in hand. “Who goes there?” He called out.

There was no immediate response, instead the men in the distance grew closer. Lonnel swore, and Aerion turned and saw his friend with a eye scope in his hand. His friend put it down and handed it to Aerion. He pressed it to his eye and swore as well. He pulled the thing down and barked out. “Gunthor, get to the fourth and eighth tell them to come here immediately.” The man shot off. Hopefully the fourth and eighth weren’t too far away.

“What the stranger are they doing here?” Lonnel asked.

Aerion put the eye scope to his eye and swore again. “I don’t know.” Whatever the Golden Company were doing here, was likely not going to be a good thing. He prayed they wouldn’t come closer. He looked around, saw the men all staring forward. “We need formation. Prepare for an assault.”

The men hurried into defensive formation, and the company got closer and closer, then as Aerion thought a horn would sound, a lone horse broke away and came toward them, it stopped a few feet from them. “Aerion.” The voice called out. “Aerion Targaryen.”

“Who wants to know?” Aerion replied.

“Balerion Targaryen.” The figure replied. “Commander of the Company of the Cat.” Aerion swore, this was about to get a whole lot worse.


	19. Aegon I

** Chapter 19: Aegon I **

****

It had been two years since the Tourney at Ashford, two years since Uncle Baelor had died, and two years since he’d become Ser Duncan’s squire. In that time they’d travelled across most of the kingdom, from the Reach, to Dorne, and now the Riverlands. There was much Egg had learned, for example that in Dorne scorpions came in three different sizes and were often some of the bloodiest creatures imaginable, but that the ape of the Dunes was prone to action. He knew that in the Reach there were horses and then there were horses, each contained different benefits to the rider and the owner. And of course the lords were still bickering over things that had happened long ago.

“Do you think Ser Matthos would make a good lord, Ser?” Egg asked Dunk.

Ser Duncan was looking down at something below them, what it was Egg did not know, but it had him transfixed, the knight did not reply immediately but when he did his voice was distant. “I think that Ser Matthos has a decent head on his shoulders, but that there are some things even he cannot do.” They had met the Tyrells whilst travelling from Coldmoat into the Riverlands. The heir to Highgarden had met Dunk and asked for some advice on some matter that Egg had not understood. He knew though that the man’s father Lord Leo was ailing.

Egg wanted to know more though so he asked. “What sort of things, Ser? Ser Matthos is a good knight, as true as a knight should be. He knows how to fight, he knows to defend the innocent and he seems like he knows the people. Do you think it is because Lord Leo has reigned for such a long time that people might not know what to do when he dies?” Egg never knew what to make of the concept of death, it was such a strange one that one moment you could be there and the next not. His grandfather was dead, as were his cousins, and his uncle. But he had never really known what to make of them.

Ser Duncan didn’t answer his question, instead he pointed to two banners that were down there in the distance. “Can you tell who those men are, lad?”

Ser Duncan was not very good at identifying sigils still, despite the lessons they’d had. Egg peered down at the banners, he saw two straws and a broken crown, and then a dragon chasing itself whilst a crow watched on. “I don’t recognise them, Ser.” He looked down and then said. “Though that second one could be dangerous.” He suspected that these people might be the peasants of the White Sparrow they’d been hearing so much about. Deciding that he wanted to find out for himself, he set off down the hill, Ser Duncan following right behind him.

“What are you doing lad?” Ser Duncan asked.

“Going to see who these people are.” Egg replied. They kept walking and then stopped once they got to the bottom of the hill, there they could hear people speaking, shouting, yelling.

There was a fat man with blonde hair speaking. “And the Father came down and struck down the false prophet and said unto Hugor, be sure to ensure the safety of all true believers for your message is needed to rid the world of darkness.”

“Of darkness.” The crowd behind the blonde fat man said.

“There is corruption and evil at the heart of the new King. When the blood raven came and removed the Blackfyre, the world was struck into darkness, for the gods do not like a kinslayer, and now there is feast and famine and nothing good can come. The end of days are approaching and all good peoples must prepare!” the fat blond man said.

“What of the silver haired kinslayer, who slayed our good Prince Baelor?” Someone said in the crowd.

“Ah!” the fat blonde man said. “Now that man is a monster, the stranger come to life. He has done nothing to correct his mistake, he has remained locked within his own hall, and has thrown his son out into the cold. The Gods shall have their way with him!”

Egg went to speak, but Ser Duncan grabbed his shoulders and kept him firmly in place. The fat blonde man continued. “It is our duty to remind the King of his duty. We are not going to go quietly. As more and more people die, we cannot allow this to stand.” The crowd responded with cheers. Egg saw the blonde man turn and grab something. It was a banner, he grabbed a torch and burned it. “Now we start with the removing of a corrupt woman in Riverrun and we shall have our justice.”

“We need to go, lad.” Ser Duncan murmured, grabbing Egg and turning him around and forcing him back up the hill.

Egg did not protest, he was confused though, as they got back to the top of the hill, he said. “I don’t understand, what are those people doing? Are they angry because of the bad harvests, that the King cannot control?”

Ser Duncan sighed. “They are scared, and they are led by an idiot, lad. They are believing whatever they have to feel better about the fact that things aren’t going the way they hoped they would.”

“What will happen now?” Egg asked.

Ser Duncan looked torn, as if he was fighting some sort of battle with himself, eventually he sighed and said. “We shall see what they are doing, but we shall not reveal ourselves to them. Do you understand, lad?”

Egg nodded surprised. “Yes, Ser.” The knight nodded and walked down the hill again, Egg following him, his hat flapping as he did so.

As they got to the bottom of the hill, they found someone waiting for them. “Mind if I join you?” the man asked.

“Who are you?” Egg asked.

“Ser Maynard Plumm, you look as if you might need assistance.” The man replied.

Ser Duncan said nothing he just kept walking. Egg however, asked. “Are you related to Lord Viserys Plumm?” he’d met his cousin once before, though he’d been too young to remember it now.

“Distantly, yes.” The man replied as they set off.


	20. Aerion VI

** Chapter 20: Aerion VI **

****

Balerion Targaryen, the oldest of the illegitimate children of Aegon the Unworthy, he had been born when Aerion’s grandsire had been serving as an ambassador to Braavos many years ago. He had black hair, but with a silver streak, and his eyes were mismatched, one black, the other violet. He was famous, or infamous for who his mother was, the Black Pearl of Braavos, and of course for his own exploits, for the sellsword career he had carved for himself. For his leadership of a company, a company whose name Aerion had forgotten.

“What do you want?” Aerion demanded instantly.

The man laughed. “I have come to talk with you, to warn you and to give you advice.”

Aerion looked at the man, then at the banners he flew. “Why are you flying the banners of the Golden Company, I did not think you had sided with Bittersteel?” The last he had heard, Balerion had spat at Daemon Blackfyre’s memory and beaten Bittersteel to a pulp.

The man laughed. “Oh, I have not joined that man. No, it was a necessary precaution. The people of Tyrosh might have expelled Bittersteel and his get from their city but they still owe their loyalty to him. Their partisans are coming here.”

Aerion was not sure whether to believe the man. “Why should I take you seriously? For all I know you could be lying to me.” It was true, his great uncle had developed a reputation for a reason. Aerion had been told stories by both his father and his uncle about Balerion, about the lies, the cons, the deceit, and the fact that supposedly his grandsire had remarked that had Balerion been born in Westeros he’d have named him his heir.

Balerion sighed. “I am not here to cause you trouble, Your Royal Highness. I might have said and done things in my youth that I deeply regret, but now is not the time to go over them. I can give you letters that prove that what I am about to say is true.”

“Well, what is it you have to say?” Aerion demanded, his nerves growing, where were the fourth and eighth companies?

If the other man sensed his nervousness he didn’t say anything about it. “The Archon of Tyrosh has decided to renege on his expulsion of Bittersteel and the Golden Company, and Bittersteel has men patrolling the pass between Lys and Myr. Indeed, it seems that the Lyseni have undergone a change of heart, with the Ironborn raiding the Westerosi shore and have decided to hedge their bets with the Blackfyres also.” Aerion wanted to say the man was lying but he knew that the Lyseni didn’t care about alliances, only trade. Balerion continued. “As such, the company are coming for the Second Sons, they want to wipe out the competition as part of their commitment to Tyrosh. Your commander has abandoned you and disappeared without a trace. The Company are coming quickly.”

“How do you know this?” Aerion asked.

“I have spies in the Company, and my own work as a member of the Company of the Cat has ensured that I know when work changes. We’ve been asked to march on Lorath to handle a difficult situation there.” Balerion said. “I wanted to offer you and the men under your command a chance to come with us before it is too late.”

Aerion thought about the proposal and asked. “If you have those letters, I’d like to read them.” Balerion handed him the letters, and Aerion read through them, there was a lot of stuff there that didn’t seem to be quite to the point, and a few things which raised his attention. He eventually handed the letters back. “There are a few questions I have.”

“Ask.” Balerion replied.

“Why are you doing this?” Aerion asked.

“Because it is the right thing to do.” Balerion replied.

“What do you hope to gain from this?” Aerion asked.

“Nothing.” Balerion replied.

“I do not believe you.” Aerion responded. “I think there is something you want from this.”

Balerion spread his arms out. “I have twenty men here, mainly with swords. You have fifty men.” Footsteps sounded, and Balerion looked on. “Make that seventy.”

Aerion turned and found himself looking at Gunthor. “Where are the others?”

“They are dead, killed by the Dothraki.” Gunthor responded.

Aerion spun around. “What is this?” He demanded.

Balerion held his hands up. “I did not know about that. The letters I gave you show that. I’m offering you the chance to come with me and my mine to Lorath, and away from the fire before it starts burning.”

Aerion thought about this, he had inked his name into the book of the Second Sons, he did not wish to break that, but then he did not want to die, nor did he want the men under his command to die. He looked at Lonnel who moved his head to one side, indicating the decision was his and his alone. He took a breath. “As long as you guarantee that no tricks are about to occur.”

“I can promise you that, on my mother.” Balerion replied.

Aerion nodded and then called out. “Men prepare your things, we are leaving.” There was a flurry of activity then as men prepared themselves for departing and other things were arranged. As that happened, Aerion asked. “How did you know where to find me?”

Balerion said nothing, Aerion suspected the reason for it. eventually the man replied. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you for some time.” Aerion wanted to ask how, then it clicked, there was one man in the company who never spoke, who never said anything, but had the look of a man who knew things that shouldn’t be known.

“Why?” Aerion asked.

The man said nothing initially, and once the men were packed and ready and they were off, he still did not speak, it was only as they crossed a bridge that he spoke. “Because you are family, and we look after family.” The sound of hooves echoed behind him, he turned and saw something in the distance. Screams and yells, the banners of the Second Sons falling.

 


	21. Maekar IV

** Chapter 21: Maekar IV **

****

Maekar buried his hate every day he woke up. The loathing he felt for himself, for the act that had put them in this position and for the acts that had preceded it. Maekar buried his anger at himself and got up, and did his work. Today was no different, he rose with the sun, had his breakfast, read through correspondence, and then attended to business. Now, as the afternoon was coming, he sat with his advisors and discussed what was happening around his lands and the realm at large.

“Caron, Grandison, Cafferen, Fell and Dondarrion have all promised their swords and ensured that their men are being trained and prepared for any engagement, Your Royal Highness.” Maester Samwell said, the previous maester had died during the sickness.

“Good, have they had any further reports on this supposed Vulture King?” Maekar asked. There had been a Vulture King during his father’s reign, Lord Dondarrion had killed him and his followers, the mask had been stuck to the man’s face though preventing any identification. This new Vulture King was either a pretender or the man’s son.

“There has been some whispers that this so called Vulture King is in fact a member of the branch of House Yronwood that sided with the Black Dragon during the Blackfyre rebellion.” Maester Samwell said.

“So, essentially it is either Ser Anders, his eldest son or his illegitimate son.” Ser Vylarr Swann, who was Maekar’s friend and Master at Arms said.

“Yes.” Maester Samwell said.

“Which therefore means that Prince Mors will have his hands full trying to stop the threat without causing an incident.” Maekar surmised. His cousin Prince Mors was some twenty-three namedays old and was bold and brash unlike his father. Maekar did not think much of him other than the fact that he was loyal.

“Your Royal Highness, I do not think that Prince Mors will try to do anything. There is talk that he is looking at marrying a daughter of Lord Yronwood and therefore would try to seek a diplomatic solution to the Vulture King or just not do anything at all.” Maester Samwell said.

“That would be treason of the highest order.” Maekar responded. “And I do not think a son of Maron Martell or Daenerys Targaryen would resort to such a thing.” He remembered his aunt, she had been a kind and caring woman with a spine of steel. She had despised Daemon Blackfyre and had not liked it when he had slandered her name during the rebellion.

“There might not be anything that he can do, Your Royal Highness.” Maester Samwell replied. “He has already had to fight off claims from the Vaiths and the Daynes of High Hermitage that he has shown partisanship to other houses in settling disputes.”

Maekar sighed. “Very well, write to Lord Dondarrion and tell him to keep an eye on the situation but not to act unless I send him specific instructions.” Maester Samwell nodded.

Maekar then turned his attention to another matter that had come up. “These murmurs of a Septon preaching heresy and treason are concerning. What have you been able to gather on him?”

Maester Samwell had developed on the contact network of his predecessor and in some circumstances had benefitted Maekar and the realm, more than Bloodraven would ever admit. “Your Royal Highness, from what I have found he is a simple peasant who started preaching in his local Septry some thirty years ago, during the reign of King Baelor the Blessed. Indeed, the child High Septon was this man’s older brother, and it appears that King Baelor visited this man and his family to bless them with good grace and health. The Brown Sparrow as he calls himself seeks to carry on what he thinks was King Baelor’s message, that being purity in all aspects of life. He has gathered a following amongst the peasantry of the Riverlands and even some of the nobles. Indeed, Lord Bracken and his heir Ser Otho are supporters.”

Maekar stopped himself swearing by biting down on his lip, if Bracken supported this mad man then naturally Blackwood would not. And if that were the case then Bloodraven regardless of his own views would side with the Blackwoods. “What has the regent of House Tully done about this?” The woman was a Vance if he recalled correctly and was smart.

“Alas, Your Royal Highness she has fallen prey to temptations of the flesh.” Maester Samwell said.

“Speak clearly.” Maekar demanded.

“She has become a lover of Ser Otho Bracken and as such has committed nothing but diplomatic resources to aiding the Brown Sparrow.” Maester Samwell replied.

“Shit.” Maekar responded. “Very well, send word to Cafferen, Dondarrion, Fell and Caron as well as to Lothston, and to her lords, we shall have to address this situation ourselves.”

Ser Vylarr spoke then. “Your Royal Highness, do you think such a thing is wise? After all, this is a matter for the crown, and could be seen as stamping on their authority.” Ser Vylarr had always been quite cautious, it was one of the reasons that Maekar liked him, however on this issue he was wrong.

“Bloodraven and the King are too concerned with what is happening beyond the sea to be of any use here. Besides, with the Brackens supporting the Brown Sparrow you can tell that Bloodraven will encourage some sort of war, even if indirectly. Therefore as a member of the Royal Family it is my duty to meet with these people with swords behind me to ensure they understand the crown’s peace shall last.” Maekar responded.

Ser Vylarr nodded, and Maekar turned to look at his oldest son. Daeron had stopped drinking after being thrown out a year ago, he looked healthier, fitter, and less tormented by dreams. “Daeron shall serve in my stead whilst I am away. Maester Samwell I wish for you to advise him.”

Both men looked surprised but both accepted his decision with a murmured. “Your Royal Highness.” Maekar nodded and prepared himself for the fight to come.

 


	22. Aegon II

** Chapter 22: Aegon II **

****

It was hot, very hot as they listened to the Brown Sparrow speak. He was dressed in a simple rag, and with a hat on his head as the sweltering sun beat down. His voice was loud and passionate. “We are entering an age where men will consort with other men, where women have forgotten their place. The wife now demands to become the man, and the Queen demands to become the King. There can be nothing good that comes from this, instead the stranger shall venture toward us and ensure that our world comes crumbling down. The age of peace that Aegon the Dragon brought shall be ended by the follies of a child who is not fit to be King.” Aegon saw Ser Otho Bracken nodding his head, his mistress, who was Lord Tully’s mother and regent was nodding her head as well. “We are now venturing away from the teachings of the Father, of Hugor of the Hill. When the squids of the Ironborn sally forth we shall know the pain that has hurt the heathens in the north, and our brothers in the Westerlands.” The man pointed to the seven pointed star on his flag. “This is our banner. This is our call to arms. We must take this before the King and tell him that the time has come for him to stop reading and for him to start ruling. Nothing else will benefit the Kingdom. He must execute the kinslayer and have justice brought.” Ser Otho nodded vigorously at that. The Brown Sparrow finished up with. “We are entering dark times, but with the grace of the Seven we shall be victorious. Glory to the Seven.” That chant was repeated by his followers, who numbered some two thousand strong, men and women and children. Most of them peasants.

The Brown Sparrow spoke with some of his other followers, as Egg turned to Ser Duncan. “Why do they believe him? Do they not realise that the ills are a result of the sickness and the poor harvests? That is not something that the King could control.”

Ser Duncan said nothing for a moment instead, he looked around and ensured nobody was listening to them, then he replied. “Lad, they are ill educated, they do not understand anything other than what their friends and family tell them. They see the King as a God and when the King does not seem to react to anything they take things too far.”

“But why?” Egg asked.

“Because they are scared.” Ser Duncan replied, moving them to someplace quiet.

“But if they are scared, why don’t they appeal to the Lord Paramount? Or in this case Lord Tully’s mother? She is right there!” Egg said pointing at the woman with the brown hair. “They can ask her for aid, or come to the capital to ask for assistance there.”

“But your finger down lad.” Ser Duncan said. He then looked at where Egg had been pointing and sighed. “It’s not as simple as that, lad. Lady Tully and Ser Otho are lovers and as such they are working together for whatever end.”

“There is also the fact that Ser Otho and the Brown Sparrow are friends who have known one another since childhood.” Ser Maynard Plumm with his silver hair and eyes that Egg could have sworn he’d seen somewhere before said.

“How do you know that?” Egg asked. Ser Maynard seemed to know a lot for someone who claimed to be a simple hedge knight. Egg knew that Ser Duncan did not like the man, but tolerated him.

“It has been talked about around the camp. Indeed, it seems that many of the peasants who we see here have come from Bracken lands.” Ser Maynard said. “They are following the heir under the leadership of their lord.”

Egg heard something in the tone of the man and that made him ask. “Does that mean this has been organised by Ser Otho? Why?” The answer came to him pretty quickly. “Because Bloodraven is the hand? He wants the Blackwoods dealt with?”

“That would be one reason, yes.” Ser Maynard answered. “There is much to be gained for the Brackens if they can use this fanatic to stir up hatred against the Blackwoods.”

“But that’s not right or fair!” Egg protested. “They should not be using the people for something such as this!” The mere thought that someone would actively play on something that was causing genuine hurt to people to make a point disgusted Egg.

“That is life sometimes.” Ser Maynard replied.

“Be quiet, the both of you!” Ser Duncan said quietly.

Ser Otho was walking toward them, he stopped before Ser Duncan, he was tall, muscular with brownish black hair. “I’ve met you before.” The man said.

“I don’t think so, my lord.” Ser Duncan replied.

Ser Otho looked the man up and down. “I could have sworn I’ve met you. Regardless, have a fun time.” The man walked passed, he didn’t even look at Egg or Ser Maynard.

“We need to get going. Now.” Ser Duncan said.

“Why?” Egg asked.

“Ser Duncan is right, you two had best get going. This is no place for a child to be.” Ser Maynard replied.

Egg looked at the two adults, and saw some look pass between them that he did not understand. The next thing he knew Ser Duncan was off walking toward where their horses had been kept. Egg hurried after the man and asked. “Why are we leaving?” Ser Duncan did not reply, he simply pointed in the direction they had come. Egg followed his finger and gasped at what he saw. A young boy, with a cross was being dragged out of somewhere. “Who is that boy?” Egg asked.

“Remember how you heard a story about the raids into Blackwood lands?” Ser Duncan asked.

“I thought that was just a story.” Egg said, they’d heard about it a few days ago.

“He worships the old gods.” Ser Duncan said. “Get on your horse, lad.” But Egg could not move, he watched as the boy was chained to a cross, as someone got a knife out, and then there was a scream, but it did not come from the boy. Instead it came from a woman.

“Knights are coming, they fly dragon banners.” The woman yelled, and the camp went into chaos.


	23. Maekar V

** Chapter 23: Maekar V **

****

They arrived to find a camp that sprawled across half the bloody countryside. Maekar had been told there were some three thousand men, women and children with this Brown Sparrow, including Bracken and his men. He stopped his horse before what he assumed was the main entrance and called out. “In the name of His Majesty, King Aerys, I demand an audience with the Brown Sparrow.” People looked at him, then at his banners, some hurried away, others stared at him in defiance.

Some tall boulder of a man stepped forward and snarled. “And who are you, to demand something from His Holiness?”

Maekar was about to reply, when another figure appeared, dressed in brown rags, and looking all the world like some sort of hermit. “That, brother Benjamin, is His Royal Highness, Prince Maekar of Summerhall.” Brother Benjamin blanched and ran away, the other man looked at Maekar and said. “Your Royal Highness, I am the Brown Sparrow. What did you wish to discuss, that required bringing almost the entire strength of the Dornish March with you?”

Maekar gestured to the camp behind the man. “That. You are spreading treason, and lies. Stating things which we both know not to be true, and I wish to know why you are leading this people into a lie.” Really what Maekar wanted to do was beat this man to a pulp, but he couldn’t do that, so instead he remained ahorse.

The Brown Sparrow did not ask him to dismount, instead he sighed. “Your Royal Highness, you must know that some of what is happening throughout the realm is down to the fault of the King and his hand. After all, the Ironborn are raiding in a number that they have not done since the Dance of Dragons, and then the Westerlords handled the situation. Here, I do not think they will be able to. Dagon Greyjoy has gathered more men than any Ironborn since Harren the Black. And the heathens in the north are facing difficulties themselves. Whilst this all happens, the harvests are failing, the crops are dying and more and more men are dying. Yet the crown does nothing.”

Maekar wanted to yell, for he knew that what the man said, he too had thought. Instead, he took a breath and replied. “You have been speaking of removing the King from his throne, of threatening the life of the Hand of the King. All things that a learned man such as yourself would know are treason. The Lord of the Rock and the Lord of Winterfell have been gathering men to fight the Ironborn, that does not justify this.” He gestured to the people behind the Brown Sparrow. “You are leading them toward something that they might not be able to come back from.”

The Brown Sparrow turned and looked at the people gathered behind him, there was a crowd developing, Maekar could have sworn he saw someone that looked like Ser Duncan in the crowd, but then he thought that would have been ridiculous after all, Ser Duncan would not have been so foolish as to bring Aegon here. The Brown Sparrow turned back and said. “We all know what is happening, Your Royal Highness. There is corruption at the heart of the monarchy, and we must root it out for things to improve. The world needs a strong King, not the person that now sits the throne. You know what must be done, and you know that only you can reverse the crimes that that sorcerer Bloodraven is inflicting on the world.”

Maekar tensed, the soldiers he had brought were straining, waiting for his order. Somewhere, something whispered inside him about how he could do a better job than Bloodraven, that these people were offering him the chance to show that. He pushed that urge down and replied. “You are speaking treason against your rightful King. By rights I should have your head removed.”

The Brown Sparrow said nothing, and another man appeared at his side, this man was one Maekar knew. He had been one of Daemon Blackfyre’s most vocal supporters. “But of course you would not do that. For you would not kill a man of the cloth, would you, Your Royal Highness?”

Maekar felt the anger grow in him then, the memories of the taunts, of the insults Otho would throw at him for his face, his hand went for the mace at his back, but he stopped it. “I suggest that the Brown Sparrow order his men and followers to disperse back to their homes, and that you and he accompany me to King’s Landing where you can present your concerns to the King.”

It was a calculated move to see whether Ser Otho or the Brown Sparrow would respond first, whoever responded first would inform Maekar of just who was in control. Ser Otho went to speak, but the Brown Sparrow responded first. “And we would have your guarantee that nothing untoward would happen to us?”

Maekar nodded. “You do.” He knew then how this would go.

The Brown Sparrow clasped his hands, turned and called out loud. “Brothers and Sisters, as your leader I ask that you return to your homes at once. Be sure to praise the Seven, and continue the good works with which we have started here.” There was some murmuring, and Maekar watched with some astonishment as the people started gathering their things and actually packing up. The Brown Sparrow turned to Maekar then and said. “We shall need some time to prepare our things, Your Royal Highness.” Maekar nodded, watched as the man bowed and walked away. Ser Otho remained for a moment then walked away as well.

Ser Vylarr moved his horse up to Maekar’s and whispered. “I think we might have bitten off more than we can chew here, Your Royal Highness.”

Maekar sighed. “I think we shall have to see what this man actually does before reaching any decision about him. And even then, the King will need to decide.” Ser Vylarr said nothing, and Maekar suspected that Aerys would not be making any decisions, it would instead be Bloodraven, but perhaps he could finally show his brother he was worth the handship.

 


	24. Beron III

** Chapter 24: Beron III **

****

The hot summer had been replaced by the chill of winter, or at least that was how it felt to Beron. Armour and the necessities of a campaign meant that things could not always be comfortable. Indeed, since driving out the Ironborn from the Wolfswood they had been on the move constantly. Things were slowly improving, but there was a lot more that could be done. He knew that things within the north west had improved, the Ironborn have been driven from there also. But the Ironborn in the West were still a threat and so he’d summoned his armies together for one final push. Beron dreamed of returning home and engulfing Lorra in a hug and never leaving her embrace.

The commanders of his army had been given their tasks, Beron was commanding the vanguard as was his right. He kept an eye on everything as it appeared before him. Snow, lightly covered the ground, their horses’ footfalls were silenced on it, but there was an oppressive heat now that was taking the place of the cold. He wondered if that would benefit the Ironborn more than them. Beron had observed some things about the Ironborn, they did better when fighting closer to the water, they had no fear of drowning, but on land they were like an infant. Stumbling and heavy footed. That was why they had been defeated so easily.

The Saltspear was the biggest body of water in land in the north, and he knew the Ironborn had their ships moored somewhere nearby. He’d sent Lord Ryswell off with a body of men to set fire to those ships to draw the Ironborn out of their holes. A sound to his left alerted him to company. He held his hand up. The host stopped. A few moments later, Lord Ryswell appeared, covered in blood. “They are coming, my lord.” the man said. Beron nodded, Ryswell turned and joined the army, his rag tag bunch of men falling in. Beron wanted to ask where the rest of his men were, but kept silent as they waited.

As the moments ticked by, Beron did an inventory in his head, checking off all the possible options. The Ironborn could not retreat to their ships, for they had none now. They could attempt to flee further west, but they would likely be hunted down and killed by the advancing Mormont and Glover host. If they tried to push east, they would be cut down. Their only hope was to stand and fight. Beron smiled, he liked that. A cornered enemy was like a cornered animal, likely to react and attack without proper thought. “They have come.” Master Torrhen Snow, brother to the Lord of the Rills whispered. Beron drew his sword. And counted down, one, two, three. He roared, and led the charge. His men followed.

The Ironborn looked terrified, but they soon gave way to animal instinct. The fight was something that Beron had been looking forward to. The Ironborn in the Wolfswood had fought carefully almost as if they were Greenlanders, it had been odd and disorientating, but these people they fought like savages. Hacking, slashing, bellowing challenges. Beron cut down three men before he realised that the vanguard was falling on the enemy in a disordered mess. “Form up. Form Up!” he bellowed. His men hastened to comply.

They cracked together as they had practised, and the Ironborn charged against spears and swords. The Ironborn were a rabble, bettered suited to fighting on ships than on land. They were cut down by the half and the dozen. Beron took a few blows to the chest and his arms, but otherwise managed to remain up right. “Move forward.” He roared, if they could get the Ironborn out into the Saltspear, and then drown them, then they would win. His men grunted under the weight of the onslaught and their movements, pushing through it all. Driving the Ironborn back. Some of the Ironborn pulled out and tried to circle around, but were cut down by the Ryswell men.

They heard crashing and screaming, another Ironborn host appeared as expected, being hounded by Umber and Bolton. “Crush them!” Beron roared. Things changed briefly, the Ironborn pushed back, and Beron felt his back scream in agony as he got attacked, but then the change was stopped. The enemy was culled down to the last man, as far as possible. He could sense victory within his grasp and he roared challenges for the Ironborn, demanding that these whoresons who had dared threaten his home answer for their crimes. The Saltspear appeared before them, and they pushed harder. Men slipped into the river and their cries echoed in the open land. Beron could feel tiredness overcoming him, his body was demanding rest, but he had to keep pushing for now.

It did not take too long before the Ironborn were dead either by steel or by drowning. Beron celebrated with his men, then called a meeting of his lords where he asked. “How many of our own did we lose?”

“Not enough to be a big hit, my lord.” Dustin answered.

“Glover and Mormont?” Beron asked.

“They are approaching now, I’ve sent a rider to inform them of our victory.” Bolton said.

“Good, and Dagon Greyjoy?” Beron wanted to know if Dagon Greyjoy had been amongst those who had died.

“Sailing with his men in the Sunset Sea.” Someone said.

“Dismissed.” Beron said, making his way back to his own tent, he wrote a letter to Lorra, telling her he’d be home soon, that they had won. Then he got changed and slipped into bed, closed his eyes, and screamed as the nightmares over took him, and his wounds screamed out for relief. He got treated though, the maesters hurrying in and out of his tent, he heard murmured words about this illness, or that illness, but he did not care. The Ironborn were gone, he would make it home, and into Lorra’s arms then he would sleep.

 


	25. Bloodraven III

 

** Chapter 25: Bloodraven III **

****

It was pouring down with rain outside, there was thunder sounding in the distance as well. Bloodraven felt that that was apt for what was about to happen. He knew that for a time he had been distracted by the events in the east, but the capture of the Brown Sparrow-which had incidentally ruined his plans- had awoken him to the fact that there was much that still needed to be done within Westeros. He had asked the King if he wished to attend the trial today, but the man had refused and instead was reading something. Bloodraven did not know whether the potion he had given the man had worked. The Queen showed no signs of pregnancy. Another worry for him to think about.

Brynden cleared his throat. “Bring in the prisoners.” The doors opened, and the Brown Sparrow and Ser Otho Bracken, heir to Stone Hedge were forced forward, they were stopped before the foot of the throne. Brynden gazed down at them. Ser Otho was the heir to the house that had spawned his rival, and he knew he needed to play it carefully here. “Ser Otho Bracken, you are accused of breaking the King’s peace, of rallying with dissidents and trying to start an uprising, against His Majesty, King Aerys’ authority. What do you have to say for yourself?” He would get to the Brown Sparrow later.

The man simply looked at him and replied. “Justice.”

Brynden snorted. “Justice, what justice is it that you feel the crown owes you?” The man shifted and his chains rattled.

“Not justice from the crown, but justice from you, Ser Kinslayer.” Ser Otho replied, there was a hushed murmur and Ser Otho snarled. “You have taken more from my father than was necessary, you have allowed your hatred of my family to control the way in which you shape the policy of the kingdom. That was not something I could allow to stand.”

There was even more whispering, and Brynden asked. “Can you point to an example of what it is you think I have done?” He could tell Ser Otho was going to respond, but before he could, the Brown Sparrow spoke.

“Peace, we do not need the airing of such grievances now. You have asked for my reasons before and I shall give them to you.” The Brown Sparrow was a man with matted hair, and shoddy clothes, but he held himself like some sort of King.

“Speak.” Brynden commanded, he knew what the fate of this man was already, he simply wanted a reason to be given to the court.

“Well, you are a worshipper of the old gods, you practise sorcery, and you have allowed your hatred of Aegor Rivers to cloud your judgement. You do not rule with the best interests of the Kingdom, but instead in the manner that will best allow you to handle the threat you perceive Ser Aegor to be. That has meant that the Ironborn have raided up and down the western coast, with meagre defences being provided by the Lords of the Westerlands and the Arbor, due to an ordinance that the previous King had passed, which means that any further action would require the consent of the throne.” The Brown Sparrow said, he then took a breath before continuing. “You have enabled the crops to sit and die during the famine and you have ordered men to be prepared for a war that has not come. You have allowed famine and poor harvests costing thousands of lives. You have served as a poor hand.”

Brynden heard the words but he did not see any truth to them, he knew the reasons why the people had died and they were not to do with his efforts. “And so you decided that gathering men, women and children together and forming into an armed band was the answer?”

“Yes.” The Brown Sparrow replied. “Arming the people in times such as these is sometimes necessary to ensure their interests are truly looked after. When the throne fails to protect its citizenry, there is only two options of the people, to die quietly, or to take up arms and force the kingdom to fix itself. I decided that the second option was preferable.”

Brynden had heard that term before, from his brother, King Daeron had often said that to his eldest son and heir and to Prince Maekar, and to Brynden when they were children at play. He wondered whether he had forgotten that lesson now. “By doing so, you broke the King’s peace and therefore the law. As a consequence, the King has decreed that your life is forfeit.” There was even more whispering.

The Brown Sparrow did not seem shaken or surprised by this instead he simply said. “I wish for it to happen now, rather than later.” Then he turned to Maekar who was sat somewhere else and said. “Your time will come as well, Your Royal Highness, this one will not let you curtail his ambition.” With that the whispering intensified, as a block was brought and the man was pushed down, he was executed by the executioner there and then. His head taken to be put on Traitor’s Gate, his body to be burned.

As the court whispered amongst itself, Brynden turned to look at Ser Otho the man had become as white as a sheet, but his head was held high. “Is that what you intend to do to me?” The man demanded.

Brynden knew that if he had Bracken executed the man’s father would rebel and half the Riverlands would join him. So, he said. “No, but under Ordinance twenty-five, you are under arrest for aiding a traitor. You shall be put into the Black Cells until such time as your father has come to answer for your crimes.” Lord Bracken was an ailing man and not likely to be able to make the journey. Ser Otho’s face told Brynden the man knew this. Still the man said nothing and went away quietly, once he was gone, Brynden stood up and walked out of the throne room, he needed some air.

 


	26. Aerion VII

** Chapter 26: Aerion VII **

****

The Company of the Cat was different to the Second Sons. Whilst the Second Sons had been around for much longer and was perhaps more professional, the Company of the Cat felt more like family. And they all respected Balerion, indeed, the man did not seem like a rogue, but more like a committed soldier who had learned from the mistakes of his youth. Aerion had fun observing the man and seeing how he handled the challenges of being a sellsword general. The man ran the Company of the Cat and as a result it benefitted from his leadership.

They had come to Braavos instead of Lorath, a change of plan according to Balerion and now they were residing in the Castle Manor that the Company kept within the city. Aerion in Balerion’s quarters, watching as the man studied a map. He knew that perhaps it was better to keep silent, that the man would tell him what he was looking for eventually, but then his patience was never his strong suit at times like these. “What are you looking for?”

Balerion looked up. “For something that I do not think was marked on this map. Pass me the one on the other table.” The man pointed to a more faded map. Aerion got up and picked up the map before handing it to the man. Balerion took it and scanned through it before nodding. “There it is. Come have a look.”

Aerion did as he was bid and looked over the man’s shoulder. “What am I looking for?” He asked.

“Where the lines cross, what do you see?” Balerion asked.

Aerion followed the man’s fingers and then said. “The Golden Fields, what about them?”

“That is where our next job will be.” Balerion said.

“Why there? There’s nothing there.” Aerion said, he might not have always paid attention to his lessons but he remembered this.

“There is. A mineral deposit has been discovered that would boost the economy of whoever captured it by some ten percent, meaning we’d make another forty percent on top of what we’re being paid to help defend Braavos.” Balerion replied.

Aerion looked at the man and asked. “You’re telling me that after four thousand years, something has finally been found in the Golden Fields and it’s not gold.”

Balerion laughed. “Yes, that is exactly what I’m telling you.” The man shifted to the side and picked up something else. “There was a declaration of intent from the Sealord with the backing of the Iron Bank, whilst Myr, Norvos, Qohor and Volantis have all made declarations of intent also.”

Aerion whistled. “So, it will go down to a war then?”

“Most likely yes.” Balerion replied. “Volantis and Braavos are the two cities that have the best chance of engaging in a war and taking the thing. There will be naval battles, already the Sealord and the Myrish Council have agreed to an alliance and the Braavosi fleet is preparing to leave port. Qohor and Norvos are sending men under the command of their Unsullied and the Bearded Priests respectively. Their masses are going to be bigger than anything else, especially with the Golden Company and the Second Sons and the Company of the Rose all getting involved.”

“Did you say the Second Sons?” Aerion asked. “I thought they were being destroyed by the Golden Company?”

“I had thought that as well, but word has come, it seems their new captain decided to ally with Bittersteel, in return for a share of plunder.” Balerion responded.

Aerion raised an eyebrow. “Who is their new captain?”

“Some man named Greybeard.” Balerion replied shrugging.

Aerion was not sure if he believed Balerion which simply increased his suspicions of the man, but he buried them for now. “So, why were you looking at the map, if you know that that is where we are going?”

“I’m looking to see where we can best place ourselves. We cannot simply stand there and wait to be attacked. We need ditches, trenches and other such things.” Balerion explained.

Aerion glanced down at the map, noting the curves of land and the river to its left and right. “You could well dig down near the river, and then build trenches. Put archers on the left bank, and then but the spears on the right bank. Create a sense of discord in our ranks. The Second Sons will go for broke, and their shield walls will struggle in the river.”

Balerion nodded. “A possible strategy, but one that is lacking. The Second Sons won’t be deployed until such a time as the Golden Company feels it is safe to do so. Bittersteel is more cautious than you give him credit for.”

Aerion felt something, a hint of suspicion gathering within him, he was not sure what it was, but it was there now. “I see, so how would you go about it?”

Balerion looked down at the map, as did Aerion. “I would dig trenches before the river, then I would cover them up, I’d place men on the banks near the Sorrows, to tempt the enemy. Then when that initial engagement has happened I would order a retreat, as we got nearer to the trenches, the men would stop, and allow for the enemy to slide through into the trenches or into the river.”

“You’d risk a sizeable portion of men to try and tempt experienced soldiers into a mad dash on the first thrust?” Aerion asked horrified.

“Against the Golden Company? Yes.” Balerion replied. “You have to understand the Company is the one force that I am concerned about. The Second Sons my spies report have been decimated by coups and counter coups throughout the past five moons. The Company has however remained firm and determined. They have improved their heavy charge.”

“So, what is the objective here?” Aerion asked trying to keep himself calm and fight down the suspicions rising inside of him.

“The objective is to take the Golden Fields as quickly as possible, whilst nullifying our enemies.” Balerion responded.

Aerion nodded though that nagging feeling was growing bigger, not lessening.


	27. Shiera II

** Chapter 27: Shiera II **

****

 

King’s Landing was alive with the sound of people whispering, plotting, demanding and dreaming. It had always been this way, but now there was a definite edge to it. After Brynden had executed the Brown Sparrow, news had spread across the kingdom, and the reaction had been mixed. Some praised him for doing what needed to be done to keep the peace, others condemned him as a murder and a heretic. Others focused on the imprisonment of the heir to Stone Hedge. And it was this that Shiera spoke about now, as the rain hit the ground.

“Lady Tully has written me another letter, beseeching me to ask for clemency for Ser Otho.” Shiera said, at first she had wondered why the lady was writing to her at all, she was not the Queen. Then she remembered, she was Brynden’s lover, and as a result, as good as the Queen, with Aerys not bothering to be King.

“And what did you say?” Brynden asked.

Shiera sighed. “I wrote to her that I would try and see what I could do, but not to expect anything. I do not see what she sees in that man.”

Brynden ran a hand over her arm, and she shivered with delight. “I think she wants something her husband could never give her.”  Shiera sighed, Ser Eustace Tully had been a very knightly man, kind, courteous, and good with weapons, he had fought for the Targaryens during Daemon’s uprising, but it seemed his wife had not liked that.

“Ser Otho is a brute, I am still convinced he was funding the Brown Sparrow.” Shiera said, she’d looked into the man’s eyes when she’d questioned him and seen that he had done something, something he was desperate to hide.

“He funded some of what the mad man wanted. But not all.” Brynden replied. “I looked into his accounts, and found large chunks gone to the sparrow, but then I looked into the rough book the Sparrow’s accountant kept, and found other donations.”

“Oh? From other Riverlords?” Shiera asked, her investigation into Ser Otho had revealed a deep web of minor lordlings within the Riverlands who professed loyalty to the throne but had instead been preparing for something.

“Yes, but also from the Reach. It seems Ser Matthos’ troubles were not exaggerated.” Brynden replied in a voice that suggested he was beginning to wonder about his focus.

Shiera took his hand in hers, forcing him to look at her. “You are doing the right thing. The northmen have pushed the Ironborn out of their lands, Lord Tybolt has managed to beat Dagon Greyjoy to a stalemate in the Sunset Sea, soon enough things will be better. Aegor is the threat you need to worry about.” She had seen it in her dreams, Aegor was growing more powerful by the day.

Brynden sighed. “I know, yet something the Brown Sparrow said has stuck in my head. I cannot just focus on Essos, my spy network is good, but I need to be more involved. Especially with Aerys refusing to attend council meetings.”

Shiera knew that irritated her lover, and so she quickly said. “I gave the Queen another potion. This one is more discreet, I do not think Aerys will be able to tell that there is anything in his drink or food this time.” The last potion had failed miserably, with the King coming with the vial to her chambers and throwing it at her feet. This time she had made sure to keep it in a much smaller vial, and to have instructed the Queen in dabbing some of it onto her skin. She knew Aerys, and knew he’d find the smell irresistible.

“Good, I only hope that the fool does not do anything foolish. He should have consummated his marriage on the first night. He speaks of duty and of prophecy but does nothing to secure it.” Brynden said.

“Why does he insist on prophecy? Surely he understands how things look with his obsession?” Shiera asked. Baelor would never have given into his own whims like this. Not for the first time Shiera wondered why Maekar had been so adamant in fighting in that Trial of Seven.

Her lover sighed. “I think it is due to his belief that whatever the prophecy says will be coming true as soon as he can make it happen. In one sense I hope that means he will actually sleep with his wife, on the other hand I am terrified at what that will mean for the child once they are born.”

Shiera looked at Brynden and asked. “Do you truly think he would go that far, with a child that young?”

“I think Aerys would do whatever it took to make sure that the child was what he thought the prophecy said the child would be. Which is why I will need to take drastic action the moment the child is born.” Brynden replied.

Shiera nodded, knowing full well that Aerys would make a terrible father. “There was another matter I wished to talk about today.” She felt her heart start beating quicker, she had considered this matter for some time and had decided that now was the right time to speak about it.

“And what might that be?” Brynden replied.

Shiera took their joined hands and looked at them then said. “There’s been a lot happening and I know that things are difficult for you right now, and I know that you are the only man I’ve ever loved.” She heard Brynden’s breath hitch. “You asked me a question a long time ago, and I’ve finally decided to give you an answer.” She looked up and into his eye. “The answer is yes.”

“Yes?” She heard him whisper.

“Yes, I will marry you.” She replied.

Brynden smiled then leaned forward and kissed her and kissed her then, he got up and so did she, and he grabbed a ring from somewhere and placed it on her finger. “Well, then, let us be sure to tell the King.” Shiera giggled and smiled, she was happy.

 


	28. Aerion VIII

** Chapter 28: Aerion VIII **

****

“They will be coming in five corps, the Norvosi have brought their bearded priests out of retirement and ensured that they all know where they stand.” Balerion said, they were in the command tent, the heat was making sweat break out across his brow. Aerion blinked and forced himself to listen. “The men of Qohor and the sellswords of the Company of the Rose are approaching this as a sort of hit and run. They will use themselves as shock troops and come in from the northern stream before channelling themselves into something else. We will need to keep an eye on all of that. To ensure that things do not go completely southwards.”

Aerion spoke then, he had been given the command over the planning. “We have staged reconnaissance throughout the entire perimeter, from what we have seen, the Volanteene army has not yet approached, though their fleet and the Braavosi fleets are engaged. The Second Sons and the Golden Company are some three leagues out from our position. Most likely they are being stored as reserve should something happen.”

Balerion nodded, the man looked at the rest of the captains within the tent, the suspicions that Aerion had about the man had not yet abated, if anything they had increased. “We must ensure that the bridge and the left bank remain ours. Otherwise we shall be pushed into the river, and that is not something we can recover from.”

Gerold Sevenstar, a general of the company, spoke. “Sir, would it not be better to position the third and fourth companies on the eastern bank, that way we have the perfect view of the enemy as they approach.”

Balerion shook his head. “No, that would not do. We must have the companies stationed on the western bank, the more men we have there, the better protected we shall be. We will be facing four armies that are hostile to us, with our own company of soldiers, nothing more. Unless the Sealord brings Qohor and Norvos over.”

Aerion wanted to ask about Myr, but decided against doing so. Instead, he said. “We should get the men prepared now, otherwise we will be facing an enemy on untrained eyes.”

Balerion nodded. “Aerion is right, dismissed.” Aerion walked out of the command tent and made his way over to Lonnel, who was sharpening his sword.

“So, how was it?” His friend asked, there was something haggard about his friend, ever since he’d learned of the Ironborn invasion of the north.

“Alright, there’s still something about Balerion that I cannot place. Something that seems off.” Aerion responded.

“Why? Is there something about him that just screams crazy, sellsword captain who will likely break us all down to nothing.” Lonnel asked sarcastically.

Aerion snorted. “Yes.” He thought over the things he’d observed about Balerion, the twitches, the phrases he used, and the way he held himself. Aerion suspected that there was something there, but what it was he could not place. The bell sounded, Aerion helped Lonnel up, and together they walked out, Aerion’s company were waiting for them. They were to be the advanced patrol, there to tempt the enemy out toward the trenches. He nodded to the men, they mounted their horses, and then rode out. His Morningstar was handed to him when they stopped, his squire was some snivelling shit, it did not matter. The boy would likely die before this was over. They moved forward, his heart did that odd thing it usually did, it thumped, stopped, and thumped again. They stopped once more, Aerion waited, and waited, then out in the distance he saw them. “Draw weapons.” He breathed.

He heard the tell-tale signs of a company drawing weapons. His Morningstar was in his hand, his heart continued beating in a quickened rhythm, the enemy appeared closer and closer. “Now.” He said, and they moved as one fluid motion, his company followed him, and he knew that before they struck there would be engagement. Someone came charging through from the enemy lines, and he fell down, the spikes they had planted doing their work for them. Another man sprinted forward and fell to their deaths. This was too easy, the Qohor were not disciplined.

Then the bearded priests appeared and Aerion knew they would need to engage. “Third and fourth circle around.” He said his orders were relayed and men began riding out their weapons drawn. He watched as they engaged, the priests were knocked down briefly, but more came, and Aerion knew that the third and fourth would be knocked out, that was what was needed. “Engage.” He barked and they rode out now with the Qohor, Aerion’s Morningstar connected with head of some idiot, and another and another. Something hit him then, a blunt object, he shrugged it off and continued on his path.

The fighting went reasonably well, the third and fourth gave their lives honourably, giving them enough time to lead the Bearded Priests toward the trap. The Qohor fell back as Aerion had suspected they would, and now it was a case of moving as quickly as possible to the higher ground. Pain was present in some of his men, they had taken heavy blows, he knew, but they were pushing through and achieving some modicum of sense. The Qohor had broken, the Bearded priests were coming closer and closer. The first scream told him they’d entered the trap. Another scream soon entered, and then another.

Then something happened that he had not expected. A force appeared bearing the arms of something he did not recognise. They came through and over the barriers, missing nothing and clearing everything. They moved in lock step, and there was something mystical about them, something that made him instinctively want to change action. He took a moment, and peered through the looking eye. “Shit. Retreat, retreat now!” He roared, and turned his horse away, he could not allow such a massacre to happen. Not here and not now.


	29. Aegon III

** Chapter 29: Aegon III **

****

From the Riverlands and the chaos that had followed the execution of the Brown Sparrow, they had made their way north slowly. They’d spent a bit of time with Lord Frey, a measly man who counted grudges, and his spoiled son Walder who had tried to pinch Egg, though Egg had knocked him on his arse a few times. From there, they’d moved northwards, through the neck, and the lizard lions and the swamp, further north still. And now they were approaching the heartlands of the north, and there were people about them.

His curiosity getting the better of him, Egg approached one of the men, who bore the wolf of Winterfell. “Excuse me, Ser, what’s happening?”

The man looked down at him, he had a long beard and a look of a giant about him. “Everyone is moving to Wintertown, for Lord Beron is gravely ill and has summoned his lords and their retainers to him.” the man replied.

“What’s happened to Lord Beron?” Egg asked, he knew the importance of the Starks to keeping the north safe and the thought that one of them might be injured stirred some worry in him.

The man looked at him as if he’d grown a second head. “He was wounded fighting the Ironborn. Doing the job whilst the King read his books.” The man spat and walked on.

Ser Duncan appeared then and put a hand on his shoulder. “You look worried lad, what’s wrong?”

Egg thought for a moment and then said. “Lord Stark is injured, and I think he thinks he might be dying. He’s summoned the lords of the north and their retainers to him. That means either he has something important to say or he really is about to die.”

“Why do you say that?” Ser Duncan asked, the man had gotten a little scar under his right eye from fighting the Cranogmen.

“Because he fought the Ironborn, Ser.” Egg replied leaving out what the big bearded man had said. “And because the Starks are crucial to holding the north.”

“Like the Lannisters are for the Westerlands?” Ser Duncan asked, they’d been talking about the great houses during one of the rare occasions there was nothing to do on their travels.

“Yes,” Egg replied. “But more so. The north is a big place filled with houses that feud with one another constantly. They only stop themselves going to war because of the Starks in Winterfell. They are the only people the northern lords listen to. And as the Starks are the most loyal house we have in the entire of Westeros, apart from the Darrys, if Lord Beron is ailing that is worrying.”

“His brother is with Aerion is he not?” Ser Duncan asked, they’d spoken briefly about Lonnel Snow and why Egg thought he might be a good influence for Aerion, the brother who Egg hated.

“Yes, but he’s a bastard and can’t inherit anything, besides, Beron Stark has children, I think he has four sons.” Egg said, his knowledge on the current Stark family wasn’t very good. “But that’s not what is concerning.”

“Then what is?” Ser Duncan asked patiently.

“He’s the fifth Stark lord to have died in the last thirty years. Winterfell and the north haven’t been completely stable since Cregan Stark died.” Egg said, he idolised the old man of the north, the man had done a lot of things during his long, long life.

“He’s the man who fought in the Dance of Dragons, fought Aemon the Dragonknight and also conquered something beyond the wall isn’t he?” Ser Duncan asked.

“Yes. His tenure as Lord of Winterfell started when King Viserys the First was reigning and it ended just as King Aegon the Unworthy’s reign began. He ruled for so long and had so many children that things were quite confusing for a time after his death. His firstborn son Rickon died fighting for the Young Dragon in Dorne and his second son, Jonnel had married his firstborn son’s niece Sansa, hoping to unite the two claims, but they didn’t have any children. Jonnel’s brother Edric married Sansa’s older sister Serena and when the Blackfyre’s rebelled, he rebelled as well. Jonnel died, and Edric was defeated, and exiled. But he and Serena Stark have children, and they are adults now. So, if Beron is dying, that could mean they will come back.” Egg answered.

“But they would not have any decent claim to Winterfell, due to being exiled as traitors, surely?” Ser Duncan asked.

“I’m not sure. The north relies on the Starks, and it depends on adult Starks to keep itself in order. If Beron is dying and his sons are young, then Edric could stand a chance.” Egg answered.

“And that would be bad for the crown, as Edric might side with the Blackfyres again, meaning the north would as well?” Ser Duncan asked.

“Yes, I think so.” Egg replied.

“Well we had best get to Winterfell then.” Ser Duncan said. They mounted their horses and rode off, following the other travellers who were making their way there. As they rode, Egg looked at the surrounding countryside, it was very, very beautiful, the trees, and the hills made everything look so picturesque, it compared with the Riverlands and the Reach and perhaps surpassed it in some instances.

After some time they made it to Wintertown, where Ser Duncan gave their names, and they were allowed to enter. They settled down, and found a place to stay, a room in an inn that was already quite crowded. They got their things together and changed, and as they were making their way down, they heard a bell toll. They got to the ground floor and heard people whispering. Ser Duncan asked what had happened, and someone replied.

“Word has come, Edric Stark has landed on the eastern coast.”

Egg felt his heart sink. They were about to be caught in a war zone, of that he was sure. He looked at Ser Duncan and the man shook his head, now was not the time to reveal who they were. Or rather who Egg was.


	30. The Queen: Aelinor I

Aelinor looked through the papers on her desk and sighed. This was her life, reading through papers, letters written to her by people from across the realm, but knowing that she would not be able to do anything to help them. The Hand of the King was the one who made all the decisions. She read through the letters and then pushed them to the side. She gestured to her lady in waiting to show the Hand’s wife in. Shiera Seastar had married Brynden Rivers, a few weeks ago, and now she walked around the court proudly displaying the growth in her stomach that showed she was with child.

Aelinor rose, kissed the woman’s cheeks and then sat down. They did not say anything to one another for a moment. Aelinor and Shiera had been friends from the time she had come to court some twenty years ago as a young girl. “So, how are you finding married life?” Aelinor asked.

Shiera smiled. “Well enough, it is no different to how things were before.” There was a pause, and Aelinor knew her friend would ask about the potion, but surprisingly Shiera brought something else up. “I think Princess Alys might be with child once more.”

Aelinor raised an eyebrow. “What makes you say so?” She did not like her goodsister, Alys Arryn was haughty, full of pride, and something else that she could not quite put her finger on. She carried herself with so much grave and favour despite the fact that her husband was usually kept sedated in the Red Keep. Her children were good and everything a boy and a girl should be, that was true, but then Alys schemed and schemed.

“I overheard her speaking with Maester Roderick a few hours ago. Something to do with taking the tea of lilies.” Shiera said. “Lilies of course being some sort of remedy they use in the mountains of the Vale.”

Aelinor was not so sure, since the Great Spring Sickness had finished, things had slowly returned to normal, that was true, but there still had not been a conclave, and they had lost a few of the other maesters in the Red Keep. Maester Roderick hailed from some never region in the Vale, and so she was not sure what to make of him. “It could simply be an attempt to spread gossip. If she truly is with child then there is doubt over who the father is. Prince Rhaegel has not been lucid for some time.” Indeed, not since his father had died.

“This is a possibility, I admit. But I do not think she would lie about this, not when the stakes are so high.” Shiera responded.

Aelinor fought down her temper, remembering what her Septa had said, it was all about patience and ensuring good relations. “What do you mean?”

“Ser Otho rots in a cell, as does Daemon Blackfyre, but there has been word that Volantis has moved its fleet and has successfully defeated the Braavosi fleet. Volantis and Aegor Rivers are in an alliance.” Shiera said.

Aelinor sighed. “The man cannot convince the entire Volanteene fleet or its armies to move from the Golden Fields to another area, one where they already have good relations with the powers that be.” Whilst Aelinor would have liked to have been the power that be, she had long accepted that her husband would never rule unto himself.

Shiera nodded. “This is true. Though, I must admit the thought is somewhat worrying.” A pause then. “Regardless, how are things with you?” Aelinor hesitated, she did not want to give anything away, to Lady Bloodraven, but she did want to speak with her friend Shiera.

Deciding that she was speaking to Shiera, she said. “Well enough. I did as you suggested. I used the potion, and I think that it worked. Aerys was certainly keen on several nights.” She’d never seen him so keen.

Shiera smiled and asked. “Can I?” Aelinor nodded, and Shiera put a hand on Aelinor’s stomach. She gasped. “I felt something. I cannot be sure, but I think I felt something.”

Aelinor smiled. “So, it worked?”

“I think so. To be sure though, we should ask Maester Godfrey to run a check, he’s someone we can definitely rely on.” Shiera said.

Maester Godfrey hailed from the north, White Harbour to be more precise. Aelinor hoped that he would be chosen as Grand Maester at the next conclave. “I think that would be for the best.” Shiera smiled at her and got up, kissed her cheek then left.

Once Shiera was gone, Aelinor rang a little bell on her table and one of her ladies in waiting appeared. The woman curtseyed. “Your Majesty?”

“Report.” Aelinor said.

The lady, Bethany, her name was nodded and spoke. “I’ve spoken with the cooks and the servants, they confirm what Lady Shiera reported, Your Majesty. Princess Alys has indeed spoken with Maester Roderick about a supposed pregnancy. They were speaking about the best ways to ensure a natural birth.”

“And do you know whether the child is really Prince Rhaegel’s?” Aelinor asked, the lady’s sister was Alys’s lady in waiting.

“My sister confirmed that it was.” Bethan responded, though the way she said it made Aelinor even more curious.

“Speak your mind.” Aelinor commanded.

“I believe that the Princess might have had the relations with the Prince when he was not lucid.” Bethany said blushing something fierce.

“I see.” Aelinor responded, thinking quickly over what she had heard. If this was true, then Alys had broken the clearest law within House Targaryen, no Prince or Princess could have relations with their spouse or another person, if that person were not lucid, a breaking that law was punishable by death. “Dismissed.” Bethany curtseyed and left. Aelinor mulled over this new information and how it could help her, and help protect the child that was growing within her. She would need to work and work quickly, to ensure that everything was in place before the Arryns could work.


	31. Aerion IX

** Chapter 31: Aerion IX **

****

For three moons, they’d been stuck fighting, moving neither forwards nor backwards, just staying in one place. Stuck, fighting and killing and dying. It had gotten to the point now where they had had to dig trenches, lines of mud, that brought with them risks of lice, and other disgusting things in the heat. Aerion knew the men were tired, but they had thankful merged the companies. Third, fourth and his own fifth company were joined together in the trenches. Some three thousand men in total. Stuck in the mud, with the sun beating down on them, trying to keep their spirits high. Their horses had been slaughtered by some sort of hellfire from Asshai, the red priests had brought their fires here. Why the Asshai had gotten involved, Aerion did not know. No one did, the Asshai usually remained out of these wars.

“Do you think it will rain?” Lonnel asked. His friend was covered in sweat, his skin burned through. Aerion felt sorry for him, a Northman was not supposed to get hit with so much sun.

Aerion looked up at the sky, where the sun was beating down, and there was not a cloud in sight. “I don’t think so. I think we might be facing the sun for the long haul.”

Lonnel cursed. “Gods dammit, how long will this infernal heat keep going.”

Aerion laughed, but before he could respond, Gerold Greenbeard, of the third company spoke. “You think this is bad, you should’ve seen what we had to face once in Slaver’s Bay. There the sun beat down and it did not rain for a whole year, whilst we fought inside a damned city.”

“You mean to say you fought inside one of the slaver cities?” Aerion asked surprised. “I thought they never allowed fighting within their cities.” That’s what he’d read anyway.

Greenbeard snorted. “After we were through in Yunkai, they agreed to that being the case. But before that agreement, we always fought within the cities. I can tell you one thing, there’s nothing quite like facing an enemy in the street where you could piss and it would end up hitting your leg, to know what fear of tight spaces is.”

Someone else, a younger man, who Aerion thought was named Hesse spoke. “And there was that one time we fought in Asshai as well.”

“You’ve fought in Asshai?” Lonnel exclaimed.

“Oh aye, there was one time where Asshai fought some beast people, it was a terrifying thing.” Hesse said, though a look from Greenbeard shut him up quick enough.

Greenbeard looked at Aerion then and asked. “You are the main commander here, Your Royal Highness, how long do you think until we get through this turmoil?”

Aerion did not sigh, he knew that as a Colonel, sighing would be seen as weakness. He thought through what he knew, the sun was beating down, their trenches were weakening, but strengthening in other areas. And the other side had not deployed their hell priests. “We need to get rid of the red priests. We can see their fires from here, but we don’t know whether they can truly see what we are planning or not.” He stroked the beard that had begun growing on his chin. “I think we might need to use the archers again.” They’d used them initially, but when it became clear the archers did nothing to the priests or those they were protecting, the archers had put down their bows.

“Where would you put them?” Greenbeard asked. “The enemy would know if we were moving anywhere but toward the centre.”

“I think sending them toward Dagger Lake would make the most sense. The enemy has put barriers around it, they’ve clearly found something there that they want. Send one company off toward that area, with the archers moving with them. The enemy will likely detach their best troops, including the priests there to defend it.” Aerion replied, he closed his eyes, sweat dripping down his face. “It will take time, and might well cost us many men, but it will take the priests from the game for a moment, and that is all we need.”

Aerion opened his eyes, and saw Greenbeard looking at him with concern. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Aerion said. “We have to break through.” He knew he would hear the screams of those who were to die, but he had no other option. They needed a breakthrough. Greenbeard nodded, and barked orders for men to be prepared. However, before the order could be codified, horns sounded. Signalling that a new charge was to begin. “What are they doing?” Aerion cursed. “We’ve got no cover.”

Nobody replied to him, though he hadn’t expected anyone to. They grabbed their weapons, said their prayers to their respective gods, and then climbed over the dirt and the tar. Fire greeted them, but it was off centre. It was not meant to hit and kill it was meant as a test, to see whether there were enough people to make something of this fight. His Morningstar was in his hand, the fire stopped, and this time there was a roar, and the enemy came, the men came, not the priests.

The fighting was chaotic, as it had been for most of the past few moons. Aerion swung his Morningstar, and took out the enemy that came toward him. He limited their ability to harm him through proper or improper means. His body took blows and he knew that going back to the trenches would not be good enough. That he would need proper medical treatment once the fighting was done for today. He beat a bloody path through the scores of men, until he came face to face with someone, who mirrored his style, they went the same way, they defended the same way, and then when Aerion removed the man’s helm and killed him, he found himself looking at someone who appeared to be just like him.

He stepped back from the fighting, shocked.


	32. Beron IV

** Chapter 32: Beron IV **

****

The wounds he had taken fighting the Ironborn had not completely healed. Whenever he sat up, he felt the stitches loosen and he winced with pain. Beron knew that with his uncle Edric back in the north, there would be war. He had been expecting this from the moment he’d learned that the Company of the Rose had taken Edric as its commander. He blinked slightly, he was tired, he was always tired now, but he had work to do. He had summoned the lords of the north who were loyal to him and now they were here waiting for him.

“We all know what is coming. Edric Stark has decided that he wishes to claim Winterfell, despite the act of attainder standing against his name, and the desperation of his last act many years ago. We know that the Company of the Rose are on his side, and that they are using their contacts to try and stir sentiment against the Targaryens. We know there are some who would see them succeed. We cannot allow that.” Beron said, keeping his breathing even, even as his back flared.

Lord Cerwyn spoke then, Beron had delegated him as spy master. “We have received confirmation that Lords Bolton, Karstark and Hornwood have bent the knee and recognised Edric Stark as Lord of Winterfell, they have not confirmed him as Warden of the north, for we think they are aiming to claim the title of King for him.”

Beron grimaced, he had always suspected Karstark would turn tail, but Bolton and Hornwood that was a blow. “What of Manderly?” Lord Manderly was a man who Beron knew had often harboured a grudge, his aunt had been Serena and Sansa’s mother, and he was apparently meant to have married one of them as well, before the shenanigans of the Old Man of the North had put paid to that.

“Manderly remains neutral for now, though some of his bannermen have sided with Edric Stark.” Cerwyn replied.

“Who?” Beron asked.

“Long, Flint of Widow’s Watch also, amongst some others.” Cerwyn responded.

Beron fought back a sigh and nodded. Lord Ryswell, who had come and proven to be one of his most loyal soldiers spoke then. “My lord, I think that we can agree, what their strategy will be.” The man paused, taking a sip of wine, then continued. “We know for a fact that Edric Stark still remembers the passageways into Winterfell. They will move over the Sheepstead Hills and then they will try and take Winterfell directly.”

Lord Cerwyn shook his head. “I disagree, trying to take Winterfell is what we would expect them to do. I think they will try something else. They will try engaging in battle first, to prove their strength and their loyalty to Edric.”

Lord Ryswell snorted. “You think they would be foolish enough to try and engage in an active war?” The man shook his head. “Edric Stark and the Company of the Rose have not been in the north for many years, but Bolton, Karstark and Hornwood have. They will advise them against such a strategy. Directly going for Winterfell is the smart option.”

Lord Tallhart spoke then. “If I were Edric I would try and get someone on the inside, and get them to turn on you, my lord.” Beron looked at the man, his hair was greying to match his beard. “It makes the most sense. That way false information can be spread.”

Someone joked. “Is that why you’re here, my lord?” But nobody else laughed, indeed Beron was now considering the suggestion, debating how far he could take it. “Who amongst the men fighting for Edric could be considered truly a follower of his?” Beron asked.

“I would say, perhaps two or three men, all of them are masters of the barrow. All of them were serving with the Company of the Rose under your Lord Father’s auspices.” Lord Cerwyn said.

Beron nodded. “Then see to it that they are approached and the suitable adjustments are made.” He thanked his father for silently thinking ahead. He then turned to look at Lord Tallhart. “How quickly can you muster your men and take them toward the Western shores?”

“The western shores, my lord?” Tallhart asked sounding confused. “I’d say around three to four days to get toward a decent point.”

“Then you should set off now, we do not know when the Ironborn might return.” Beron said, he had received word from the scouts on the Western coast that Ironborn longships had been spotted on the odd occasion and his correspondence with Lord Tybolt had convinced him that the Ironborn were going to come back and attack. Lord Tallhart nodded, got up, bowed and then left. Beron turned to the rest of the lords gathered. “I will not sit in Winterfell and wait for my uncle to come and attack the castle. I know what sort of man he is, he will burn half the north on his way here, and I will not allow my people to suffer.”

“Will you force him to come to you, my lord?” Lord Cerwyn asked. “We have the advantage in terms of men, but he will have the shield fighters and the spears of our ancestors.”

Beron nodded, he knew that the spears would be an issue against mounted cavalry, but he was counting on their archers. “I will be riding out to face a traitor and someone set on hurting my land and people, yes. Now, how long until the cranogmen come into place?” He was relying on them being prepared to use their skills to hunt the Company of the Rose.

“Another day, at least.” Lord Cerwyn said.

“Good, the moment they are here, we shall leave.” Beron responded. “Dismissed.” The lords got up, bowed and then left the room, leaving Beron alone. He was not alone for very long though, for his wife entered the room, carrying some of the drink he needed to fight the pain.

“How did it go?” Lorra asked.

Beron sighed as he drank, once he was finished, he put the cup down and said. “It went as well as can be hoped. Tomorrow they will swear allegiance to our son, and then we shall see.”

His wife frowned. “Are you sure you should be leading the host?”

Beron sighed. “It has to be me, Donnor is far too young and I don’t trust Cerwyn.” His wife said nothing, she sat down and took his hand and they sat in silence for a moment.


	33. Edric II

** Chapter 33: Edric II **

****

Every time he looked outside, Edric shivered with anticipation. He was so close to returning home. So, close to reclaiming what had always been his. Winterfell, the north, all of it would soon be his. His sons had smiled and exclaimed with wonder when they had seen the north, when they had seen the passageways of the lands that would one day be theirs. He and Serena had made love in the bed where they had first done the deed all those years ago. Bolton, Karstark, Hornwood, Locke, Long, Flint all were on his side. Others had written to say they would remain neutral.

Edric stroked his beard, and then spoke. “We all know that my nephew will try and prove himself worthy of holding the title his father usurped from me. As such, this news that he has marched from Winterfell is not surprising.” He had counted on Beron being like Brandon, being determined and stubborn. His spies within the boys ranks had done their job well.

Lord Karstark a man whom Edric had known when he had been a little boy spoke then. “My lord, I do believe Beron shall approach things from an aggressive stand point. He will try and force us out onto the field. He brings with him his own men, Cerwyn men, Ryswell men, Tallhart men and others. They outnumber us, and they have more horse than us.”

Edric laughed then. “We have the Company of the Rose, men and women who have sworn their undying loyalty to me and to my family. They are three thousand of the most battle hardened people within the entire world. With your additions, we have in total six thousand fighters. More than enough to take on whatever force my nephew brings.”

Lord Karstark said nothing, though Edric knew why the man was voicing this concern. It appeared the northern suspicion of sellswords remained strong, even when the sellswords were northmen themselves. Edric said nothing either, instead he waited for someone else to speak, and was not disappointed when Lord Lake spoke. “My Lord, there have been reports that Lord Umber and the clans are refusing to muster for a fight, and that they too wish to see proof from Beron that he intends to win.”

Edric titled his head, now that was interesting. Umber was someone who Edric had thought would side with Beron no matter what, his intelligence reported that unlike his uncle the man was fiercely loyal to the Lord of Winterfell. “The clans are good, and Umber can be turned I believe.” Lord Bolton said. Edric raised an eyebrow and the man continued. “You have two daughters my lord, both of whom are of marriageable age. Perhaps a marriage between one of them and Lord Umber’s son and heir could convince him to commit the might of Last Hearth.”

Edric thought over that, he knew he’d need to speak with Serena about that, the betrothals were her area, but it made sense. “It should definitely make things more palatable to man.” Edric acknowledged.

Lord Long voiced a query then. “What role should we expect, my lord? Beron is coming with his army as you said he would, should we assume an aggressive or defensive position?”

On some level, Edric knows that an aggressive position with the hills protecting them, would be smart, but he also knows that the last time he rebelled against Winterfell, he tried something similar and Barthogan and Brandon broke his host. The lords have told him that Beron is not Brandon, but still, there are hints of him there, and that makes Edric cautious. “We shall assume a defensive position, until we receive word of something needed to change things.” Edric decided.

Lord Long nodded, and Lord Hornwood spoke then. “I can have my men prepare the damn if you wish, my lord? Some flooding would delay Beron’s army and ensure that we have sufficient time to bring things under more direct control.”

Edric shook his head. “No, Beron will expect that. Keep the damn as is. We shall build our protections.” The thought of the spears and the fire that the Company were experts at would make for a very interesting sight.

Lord Flint spoke briefly. “There is of course the matter of what happens once victory has been achieved. Will you have your nephew executed, my lord?”

Edric does not respond immediately, he knows that kinslaying is frowned upon by everyone in Westeros, but not so much amongst the Company. He also knows that he can never be safe with Beron and his get around. He ran a hand through his beard and said. “If my nephew dies in battle, then that shall be that. However, if he surrenders, then he shall be sent to the Watch.” The other lords nod in appreciation and the meeting comes to its natural conclusion.

Much later, Edric and Serena sit in bed, Edric running his hands through her hair, as her head rests on his chest. “What did they say, during the meeting?” Serena asked.

“Exactly what we thought they would. Karstark is desperate to prove himself in battle, without the company. Long and Hornwood want to stall any fight in case we lose, and Bolton wants simply to spill blood.” Edric responded, yawning. “I think they are all unsure what to make of the company.”

“Can you blame them? The Company has been away from Westeros for two centuries, these people who have their names, aren’t their cousins, not really. They are foreigners, and we’ve never had the best of luck accepting foreigners.” Serena responded.

Edric hummed. “Bolton also suggested that perhaps offering one of our girls as a wife for Umber’s son and heir could convince the giant to commit completely.” Umber had been sending mixed messages to Serena, she had been married to his uncle after all.

“Arrana would do well in Last Hearth, she is strong willed and willing to fight to defend her rights.” Serena said immediately.

“Then Arrana, it will be.” Edric responded.


	34. Lorra I

** Chapter 34: Lorra I **

****

Lorra had been a Stark for twenty years, her husband was her best friend and her children were the light of her life. She did not know whether her husband would return from the fields of battle, he had ventured out to fight in Skaagos, and had put down a minor incursion after that. She knew he was a good fighter and even better commander, and he had good advisors around him. But she did not know whether he might come back from this. Edric Stark was a fighter, and an even better command, and the northern lords who had sided with him were experienced as well. Lorra tried to keep her nerves in check, and decided to focus on the issues in front of her.

“How much food do we have to last through the winter?” Lorra asked.

“We have enough food to last through for the next seven moons, my lady, but after that we shall need to get access to the reserve stores.” The Maester responded.

“Are you certain of that?” Lorra asked, she could not believe that things had gotten to the point that they would have to dip their toe into the reserve.

The maester looked down at his notes. “I am sure, my lady.” The man looked resigned as though expecting some sort of telling off.

Lorra sighed. “Very well, we shall need to make sure that we make use of the seven months’ worth of supplies that we have at present.” She flicked through the letters and then said. “And what of the trade agreements we have with several other cities exclusive to the agreements to the throne.”

The Maester looked through the papers. “We have solid agreements with Pentos and Myr, but Tyrosh and Lys are stalling as they wait to see whether or not the war will end within the next few moons.”

Lorra sighed. “What else are they looking for?” She knew that the magisters of Tyrosh and Lys were desperate for something or the other. They always were.

“My Lady?” The maester responded looking confused.

“What else are the people of Tyrosh and Lys looking for? They are naturally going to be demanding something more for the trade deal to go ahead. Regardless of who wins the current war, Winterfell is always going to agree with a trade deal.” Lorra responded, that much was common sense.

The Maester shifted slightly, and Lorra got the sense that the man was hiding something, what it was she wasn’t sure of. “I think, my lady, that they are waiting to see whether Winterfell will accept lower tariffs on silver.”

Lorra laughed. “Then they know that they will never going to get that. The tariffs were set by my husband in agreement with King Aerys. We cannot change them just because the Tyroshi and the Lyseni are growing worried that they might lose out on trade agreements with other cities.” Lorra took a breath then continued. “We are meant to be protecting our own interests, not those of some foreign power.”

The maester bowed his head. “Yes my lady.”

Lorra then turned her attention to other matters. “What word has there been from the Reeds?” The Reeds had promised that they would patrol the borders with the Riverlands to ensure that the Freys didn’t get any ideas. Then there were the rumours she had heard of a giant knight and an egg headed squire wandering around causing chaos.

“The Reeds have secured the Moat as well as the various streams leading to it. Lord Reed has written to say he spotted Ironborn ships.” The Maester said.

Lorra raised an eyebrow. She knew her husband trusted Lord Reed, they had been friends during childhood, but there was something about this that seemed all too convenient. “Did he report on how many?”

Once again the Maester has to look down at his notes, and he shook his head. “No, my lady. Only that he knew they were ironborn by the banners they flew.”

“Very well. Inform him that Winterfell wishes for him to keep his men prepared and ready.” Lorra responded. She then looked to the master at arms, Willem Cassel. “Willem, how are things going with the training of the new recruits? Many boys had signed up for the household guard in recent days, coming from across the north to do so.

Willem Cassel was a oldish man, roughly the same age as her goodfather would have been if he were still alive. He had fought in a great many wars, and had only been stopped from fighting at her husband’s side by the need to train more men. “Some three thousand, my lady. The household guard has not seen so many new recruits since the troubles.”

The troubles, a time where the Starks had fought and killed one another, after the reign of Torrhen Stark, the King Who Knelt. His sons had disagreed over whether remaining independent or not, and King Maegor had been busy fighting his own family. So many had died. Lorra hoped that this war would not be the same, but she did not have high hopes of that. Instead she replied. “Very good, and how prepared are they?”

Willem is the sort of man who will not blink or stutter at being asked such a question by a woman, it is one of the things she likes about the north, they do not care that she is a woman, only that she is strong. “I believe my lady, that they will be ready to fight within a week’s turn.”

“Good.” Lorra responded. She then rose, deciding that she’d heard enough for the time being. The men bowed before her, and she walked out of the room, and made her way to her children’s rooms. The guards bowed before her. She entered, and found Willam reading a book, her second son so studious like his father, her third son Artos was sparring with Donnor, her eldest. Errold and Rodrik were wandering around, and the girls were sewing. She watched them briefly, then turned and left the room. She hoped that Beron would return, she did not want her children growing up without their father, and she did not want to be a widow.

When she returned to her chambers, she found the Maester waiting for her outside. He handed her a note and bowed and left. She opened the note and read.

_We’ve had word that the Golden Company is sending men to aid the Company._

_T_


	35. Aegon IV

** Chapter 35: Aegon IV **

****

The north was a lot colder than Egg had thought it would be. Though the more he thought about it, the more that made sense. After all it was further north and closer to the caps of ice at the top of the world. The land of the north was rugged, barren and harsh, there were areas where there was plenty, but where they were now, there did not seem to be much. The war itself seemed to be contributing a lot to that, with the northern lords burning down houses, villages and anything else that might aid their enemy. Egg and Ser Duncan had joined the side of Beron Stark, and had joined a company fighting under Lord Tallhart’s command.

They were eating food, as Egg listened to one of the sergeants, a man named Dorren speak. “We’ve got another twenty leagues to march before we actually get toward some form of battle now. I think my lord of Tallhart has grown weary after the last battle.”

There had been a fierce battle at the White Knife between Tallhart and Cerwyn Forces on the one hand and Hornwood and Karstark forces on the other. They’d had to retreat, and Egg had witnessed the fighting first hand. Ser Duncan, who was a sub sergeant and reported to Dorren spoke then. “Do you think we will need to engage properly this time?” Ser Duncan had not been happy with the way they’d fought at the White Knife, it had been ‘too chaotic’ according to him.

Dorren laughed. “Engage properly? I don’t know what you consider engagement in the south, but the way we fought on the White Knife is the way you fight in the north. It isn’t organised, nor is it a melee either. It is an organised chaos. A mess but one that plays into our strengths.”

“And that is right to you? To send the weakest men first?” Ser Duncan asked, Egg knew his master had had a very hard time keeping his mouth shut on that.

“Yes. The weakest men are the ones who would be a burden otherwise. Here they are serving a purpose and ensuring that nothing else goes wrong.” Dorren replied briskly. “Why, what would you do?”

Egg wanted to pull on Ser Duncan’s sleeve to tell him not to respond, but he couldn’t, here he was a squire, not a prince. “I would ensure that there was an equal division of labour. To ensure the weak and the strong fought together, so that the weak had the smarts to know what they were worth.” Ser Duncan paused then continued. “There is nothing noble in allowing the weak to think they are sacrificial.”

Dorren snorted, but Egg did not hear his response, for another one of the squires-though the northmen did not refer to them as squires- came up to him. “Egg, come on we’ve got to get some of these shields polished.” Egg turned and saw that it was a boy named Benfred, he was a squire for Lord Tallhart’s brother. Egg nodded and followed the boy to where the other squires were polishing the shields, they contained various crests and emblems. “Why does your master keep arguing with Dorren?” Benfred asked.

“Because he believes, and I agree with him, that the tactics used here are not right. Why should the weaker soldiers not get the support of the stronger soldiers during the melee?” Egg responded.

Some of the squires exchanged looks, and nobody responded to his question, instead, Benfred said. “We think that there will be another battle, and this time it will be closer to Winterfell.” Egg wasn’t sure, but Benfred was his uncle’s squire and usually knew more about these sorts of things.

“What makes you say so?” Egg asked, not for the first time he wished that he could reveal just who he was, but that would make things even more complicated.

“Well, there have been reports that the scouts have seen Bolton, Hornwood and Karstark forces moving nearer to the northern entrance to Winterfell, and that has gotten all the lords very nervous. They’re wanting to do something right now, but Lord Beron remains neutral on the matter.” Benfred replied.

“Why?” Egg asked. “Surely he’d want to act right away?” Beron Stark from what he had heard appeared to be a calm and reasonable man, but he also appeared to be very cautious.

“I am not sure. Some think it is because he wants to tempt his uncle out into the field. Others think it is because he is worried that the Company of the Rose might well take the field.” Benfred replied.

Egg pursed his lips, then spoke. “Are they really as intimidating as their reputation suggests? They’ve not been used in a battle whatsoever so far.” At least as far as he knew, but there was much he’d not been told.

“My uncle says they are even more intimidating.” Benfred responded. “Something to do with their ability in a forced march.” Egg wondered at that, then Benfred changed the conversation. “I heard a rumour earlier.”

“Oh?” Egg asked interested.

“Yeah, apparently, there’s a member of the royal family in the north.” Benfred whispered.

Egg felt his heart hammer. “Who?”

“I’m not sure who the member is, but apparently, they are here, overseeing some sort of project for the throne, or they’re here to spy on the goings on of the north.” Benfred replied.

“Who told you that?” Egg asked, unsure over whether to be worried, or relieved.

“Lord Tallhart.” Benfred replied.

Egg almost wanted to curse, but before he could, Ser Duncan found him. “Come on lad, we need to prepare.”

“Prepare, Ser?” Egg asked.

“Aye, the horns are about to be sounded.” Ser Duncan replied.

Egg got up, said goodbye to Benfred and followed Ser Duncan, as they made their way back to their places, Egg said. “I think they know we’re here.”

“What do you mean?” Ser Duncan asked.

“Benfred said there’s a member of the royal family here.” Egg explained. “Heard it from Lord Tallhart.”

Ser Duncan looked at him, but could say nothing for the horns of war sounded, they hurried and grabbed their weapons.


	36. Daemon II

** Chapter 36: Daemon II **

****

_The sky was filled with stars, and the moon was in its highest position. There was an absence of wind, and the heat of the land blew off of him. He took a step forward, expecting to find ground but instead found himself floating. Daemon gasped, but nothing happened he did not float to the ground, instead he kept going. Over the land, and over the stars, until he found himself so very high in the sky. As he stared over the land, he saw beasts of black and red fighting. Snarling and breathing jets of fire, whilst the world burned around them. They snarled and they bit and they fought, but neither could truly win. He watched that and then he floated away, he saw a golden dragon and a blue dragon fighting, a black and a green, a man with a lion’s face, and a woman with the face of a wolf. They were speaking in howls and whispers and he was afraid._

_The vision changed, now he was seeing wolves fighting, a brown wolf, and a black wolf fought whilst the grey wolf whimpered and died. Giants, flayed men and moose fought as well, whilst the silver fist hit a merman repeatedly. The chaos around him startled him. Daemon had not fought he would see such a thing. Meanwhile the Kraken snaked its way through the land, taunting and hissing as it did so. At its centre was a man with the head of a crow, and a stone eye. His other eye was purple. It bled when he looked and whispered. Somewhere a crow cawed and a lion roared, then he felt dragon eyes on him. Daemon turned and found a silver monster moving toward him, it opened its jaws and fire came out._

Daemon opened his eyes with a start. His cell was dark, but he could hear his own heavy breathing. He blinked and tried to calm himself. He was still locked deep underground, his hair was still damp, and his clothes still stank. The cell door opened, and a figure stood before him. “Hello, uncle.” Daemon replied casually, hiding the fear he felt whenever this man appeared.

“Had another dream, I take it?” Bloodraven replied, remaining on the fringes of the cell.

Daemon ignored the question, and instead asked his own. “What are you doing down here? The last time we spoke you were single, and the Queen was praying for a child. Congratulations by the way. The guards tell me your wife and child are doing well.” That was a lie the guards never spoke to him, he’d seen it in a vision.

Bloodraven said nothing for a moment, Daemon could not see his face, and therefore did not know what he was thinking. “Thank you.” The man eventually said. He continued. “I have come to ask you some questions.”

Daemon bit back a sigh, he had suspected that something like this might have come eventually. Bloodraven had asked him nothing beforehand, when he’d initially been taken prisoner all those years ago, but now here he was. “Ask away.” Daemon replied.

“You gave yourself over to get away from Aegor, that much I know. However, you have not once asked to be sent to the Wall, nor have you said you would offer any information in return for clemency. Why?” Bloodraven asked.

Daemon laughed, or he tried to, he coughed more than laughed, if he thought about it. This had not been what he had thought a man such as Bloodraven would have asked. “I did not think you would believe anything I had to say, or if you did you would have already known about it. Everyone knows that you have a thousand eyes and one all over the kingdom, and Essos. Nobody does anything without you knowing about it. This is common knowledge, my lord.” Daemon coughed again then said. “Regardless, I prefer being here. At least the darkness does not hurt my eyes and I have never liked the cold.” That was true, he’d visited Lorath once and it had been quite painful.

There was silence, after he finished, and Daemon wondered what Bloodraven was thinking. Uncle Aegor had painted the man as some sort of evil monster, hellbent on destroying the natural order of things. But as Daemon peered at the figure before him, all he saw was a man, not a God. A man who could make mistakes, just like father had. Deciding that he wanted to know more about his father, Daemon asked. “Why did you side with Daeron the bastard?”

“He was the rightful King, as is his son.” Bloodraven replied instantly, though the answer sounded off to Daemon.

“But really, why? Was my father such a monster?” Daemon asked.

Bloodraven seemed taken aback. “Is that what Aegor told you? Is that what he said was the reason for why I sided with Daeron?” Daemon nodded, and Bloodraven sighed, surprising Daemon. “No. I loved both Daeron and Daemon, they were both kind to me, but Daemon broke the law. He had no proof that King Daeron was a bastard, for there never was any. He listened to Aegor and to Quentyn Ball, he listened as they whispered poison in his ear and he dreamed for something that was never his. Daemon lost his way.”

Daemon could understand that and yet he had to ask. “Did that justify killing him and my brothers?”

“Yes.” Bloodraven replied simply. “They were a threat as long as they were alive. Aegon and Aemon were the eldest of his sons and they seemed as though they would be like him. Daemon would never have stopped fighting had I let him live. He needed to die, and therefore they needed to die.”

Daemon nodded, he could accept that. “What will you do with me?”

“You shall remain here; you are more valuable alive than dead.” Bloodraven replied, before turning and walking out of the cell.

Daemon sighed as the door to his cell shut. He knew he did not have long left, Uncle Aegor would find a way to kill him, and then he would be finished and war would come. He had foreseen it.


	37. Aegor III

** Chapter 37: Aegor III **

****

A year into the war and Aegor was certain that things would continue as they had been for some time. The Golden Fields were a mess of bodies and elephants and horses now. He was sure that by the time they were done, the minerals in the area would have disappeared, or certainly gone elsewhere. That did not quite matter now, Aegor knew that they had to win. His pay masters wanted a victory and the Golden Company always delivered. He had seen some of the soldiers beginning to lose faith, and so he had rallied them and delivered one or two speeches to keep morale up, it seemed to be working for the time being. No one had tried to desert as of yet.

Right now, the ground was littered with bodies, the men around him were fighting for their very existence. As he was as well. His sword had not rested since the day before, or was it the day before that? He could not quite remember. The war was taking much out of him; indeed he was quite sure he’d lost a few of the friends who’d come with him into exile the first time around. Aegor demanded some sort of relief, or rather his body did. But his mind knew that to seek such relief would mean death. The enemy, or enemies were fighting with everything they had. The red priests of Asshai had wreaked havoc on their first few fights, but then Aegor had figured out how to kill them. They always looked east toward Asshai and left themselves exposed. A simple knife in the back did for most of them.

Since then, the Asshai had not sent out their red priests, but instead had sent out the monsters, half human, half something else. A beast that was long forgotten in the memory of man. Every time those monsters appeared, Aegor felt himself shiver with fear. For some reason, they had not attacked him or his, and instead had attacked the other side. The Company of the Cat and the Company of the Companions. And they had been ravaged. But that had not stopped them. Indeed, the Dothraki had sided with the monsters then, appearing to worship them. Aegor had never understood the Dothraki, they appeared more like fools and idiots than anything else.

The battle brought him back to attention quite quickly. There was a thump on his helm, the sound of some eager idiot trying to create chaos. Aegor slashed and hacked and the man fell. He stepped over the man’s body and took count of the situation. Dagger Lake was to their right, the men of the enemy were divided into three divisions all of them somewhat faulty, and somewhat less. He knew that their side had some five divisions all of which were strong and holding well despite the varying conditions. “Move forward, formation Scorpio.” He roared. The order was passed down the line and as one the Golden Company formed up, horses and men all pressed together as they marched forward. Those who were in their way were crushed, whilst others fled before them.

Aegor led the assault, as he always did during training. He had observed how other companies exercised manoeuvres and he had determined where their weaknesses were. He knew that leaving one’s sides open to being probed would never deliver positive results, therefore he was determined to prevent such gaps from being put before his army. He trained the men regularly on this to the point where if needed they could exercise it and ensure that they could fix any mistakes. Such as right now where one of the men slipped and fell, in another company he would be trampled over, but here he was picked up and the assault continued.

Aegor watched as the enemy were destroyed, decimated and reduced to nothing. He felt a sense of pride, a strong sense of it. Not for the first time he wished that he had done this same thing when fighting for Daemon during the first war. He knew that in time they could take the throne of Westeros for Haegon. His spies reported that increasingly, the nobles were growing tired of Aerys and Bloodraven, something he had always thought would happen. It was almost a shame that this was so. He would have preferred to have the challenge of fighting Baelor Breakspear himself. That man would have been a challenge with his skill in both politics and war.

Aegor knew they were finishing off the enemy as quickly as they could, and he spotted the banner of a cat with a black dragon and knew who that was. The fool who had chosen neither Daemon nor Daeron during the war. A fool who had to be dealt with. Aegor roared a command and the men marched with him, killing members of the Company of the Cat as they went. When they reached the man who Aegor had decided would die, he was covered in blood, and sweating profusely. He did not care. He bellowed a challenge and then sword and axe crashed against one another.

Balerion was someone Aegor had once respected, he had been a trickster and a good fighter, but now he was nothing more than a trickster and a lout. He had refused Daemon, and he had refused much more. He had to die to make up for the errors he had made. Aegor hacked and slashed, and blocked. Balerion fought as the pirate he was. Aegor fought like the knight he was. They were evenly matched in some regards, and not so much in others. He managed to destroy Balerion’s defences and continued pushing. Balerion fought back hard and Aegor took blow upon blow. Still he kept going.

Eventually Balerion fell, his head sliced, his helmet gone and broken. Aegor watched him fall, then grunted. He had other things he needed to do. He barked the orders and the fighting continued. One commander was dead, now if he could find the Targaryen Prince he could very well end this. Imagining Maekar’s face at learning that Aegor had killed his son would be something hilarious.


	38. Aerion X

Aerion watched as the two men fought, their weapons clashing against one another. Though there was technically a fight going on around them, most people had stopped to watch these two masters of the weapon fight. Aerion winced as he saw the blows that Aegor Rivers, otherwise known as Bittersteel was raining down on Balerion. The fighting continued for a time, then Aerion turned his attention back to fighting the enemies who had grown closer toward him. His own weapons were singing in the air as they fought. Aerion knew that things were going to keep getting stranger and stranger as time progressed, but he knew that they had to keep going for some sense of normalcy.

He heard a grunt, and turned, the enemy he had been duelling missed him and ended up impaled on his own weapon. Aerion saw the fighting die down between Aegor Rivers and Balerion, the two men were locked in death’s embrace, then Balerion fell and his body was crumpled. Aerion looked at Aegor, then found himself moving toward the man. The commander of the Company of the Cat was dead and Aegor Rivers was a kinslayer, though the way that Balerion had spoken about the man during the rare moments when they’d spoken about such things, indicated that he did not see the man as such. Aerion was not sure how to feel, he knew that there were things about Balerion that had not stuck well with him, but the man was still better than Aegor.

Aerion felt the pain in his arms as the hours of fighting came to a fore. His weapon clashed with Aegor’s sword. They were locked in combat, Aerion pushed one way and Aegor pushed another. They ended up breaking apart, and then coming back together, Aerion grunted, Aegor snorted and then they broke apart. Aerion wondered how the man who was a good two decades older than him still had the capability to fight for such long hours without seemingly feeling tired, when Aerion in the peak of his life was feeling tired. It must be experience. Aerion shook himself to focus and then launched back into attacking Aegor. He swung and hit and swung and missed, as did Aegor, he felt himself pull back a few times to keep himself balanced, but the pain was worsening in his arms.

Aegor swung at him and he tripped and fell. Rivers stood over him, Aerion braced for impact, then noticed that Aegor’s feet were not well planted. Aerion had always been told that to ensure the enemy could not knock you off course you had to keep your feet well planted, it seemed that Rivers had not learned that. Aerion moved his feet quickly, and then knocked the man down, he raised himself up and shouldered the older man in the chest. He screamed silently. Rivers stumbled back, Aerion got up and swung. Aegor took the blow to the face, Aerion kept pushing, hitting him again and again, getting more out of this than he had first thought possible.

The man swung back, Aerion took a blow to the face, it nearly shattered something, of that he was convinced. Aegor came pushing hard at him, Aerion fought hard to keep himself upright, to not fall and give this enemy of his family a chance to gain leverage over him. It was hard, Aegor Rivers was relentless, and despite his age did not seem to be tiring. Aerion wanted a rest, he wanted to not have to keep fighting, but he knew that if he did stop, he was dead. Aegor Rivers did not seem like the sort of man to grant someone a reprieve. Aerion pushed down his fatigue and responded as best as he could.

He managed to severely dent the man’s armour with the blows he inflicted on him. Aerion knew that if he could keep going for a little longer, perhaps he could disarm the man and take him prisoner. Aegor was keeping his feet spread wide, a bad technique for someone who seemed to want to kill his enemy. Aerion wasn’t going to complain though. He put his foot down and fought hard. His body screamed with every blow, he ignored it. Aerion knew there was just a little bit more to go and then perhaps he could take a break. Take some rest.

Before he could finish thinking through how he was going to achieve that, Aegor pulled away and disappeared. Aerion blinked wondering if the man had fled. He shook his head at that thought, it was not likely that Aegor Rivers would run. He heard the thunder of horses, looked up and found a Dothraki warrior bearing down on him. He got his shield up in time to block. His body couldn’t take more of this, that much he was sure of, but he did not know where to go. There was a sea of horses charging passed, some of them demanding to be fought, others simply swinging and riding on.

Aerion managed to kill one of the Dothraki, he swung his weapon and pierced a bit of skin. As he pulled down the brute fell down alongside the weapon. He felt some satisfaction, but mostly he just felt tired. So incredibly tired. There was little that he could do to ensure that he did not die now other than keep his arms up and his weapons ready. The Dothraki were seemingly dispersing now, but still the odd horse came and they fell to him. He felt a hand on his shoulder and whipped around, nearly taking the man out. Lonnel stepped back, he could identify him from his silver plume.

“Your Royal Highness, we must go. The company is retreating.” Lonnel said.

“Balerion?” Aerion asked.

“His body has been taken, Your Royal Highness, we must leave, now!” Lonnel replied.

Aerion nodded and moved. His body ached and he wanted to sleep, he followed Lonnel through the throng, through the chaos, until they made it back to camp. He fell down onto his cot, and then he murmured. “Who is the new commander?” Whoever it was would have a hell of a job.

He was not sure if he heard right, but he could have sworn Lonnel replied. “You, Your Royal Highness.”


	39. Beron V

** Chapter 39: Beron V **

****

The feeling of battle never left you. Regardless of what anyone else said, it never did. Beron could remember every battle he had ever fought, from the time he was a child, fighting tribal gatherings as practice, to the time he had gone to fight the Wildlings as a young man with his uncle and father. The scars of battle faded with time but the memories remained. Beron wondered how many scars he would have when this was all said and done. He was hurting quite badly from fighting the Ironborn, he felt bolts of lightning every time he moved. But he had to keep going. He was Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North after all. He could not surrender.

Surrendering meant handing over everything to his uncle, and he knew for a fact that Edric would not let him or his wife and their children live. They would always be too much of a threat. Far too much of a threat for the man who had been exiled by the King long ago. Beron blinked as they marched, they’d found the enemy camped near the White Knife and had decided to engage. Beron suspected that this would be the turning point in the battle. They had each won one battle throughout the war so far, but this? This was where it would be decided, and Beron knew that they could not afford to slip and let anything creep through. If Edric Stark was here he would have to die.

They found the enemy stationed in groups, waiting for them. Beron knew where to find his uncle, or at least he thought he did. Edric Stark was like all Starks he would be commanding from the front, the Company of the Rose at his side. Beron said a quick prayer to the gods, and then nodded. The horns of war sounded, Beron steeled himself and spurred his horse forward. They met in a clash of steel. The water lapping at the bottom of their horses. Beron swung and killed three men before he knew what was happening around him. The enemy came swarming over him, spitting, snarling and laughing. He took them on and cut them down to size. It was a painful business, knowing that these were northmen, no matter how distant they might have been.

Beron kept pushing knowing he couldn’t give into the pain that was shooting through him. Doing so would give the enemy an edge that they could not afford. He dug in, gritted his teeth and kept swinging his weapon. It chafed against his skin, burning holes through him. He could feel the sweat building in his armour, his skin becoming warmer. Beron blinked furiously, trying desperately not to allow sleep to take hold of him. If his tiredness took over, he was dead and then his family was dead. He kept going. Pushing his body to the very limit.

His men were fighting with everything they had. The Company of the Rose was disappearing before him. That was good at least, for it meant that things were not going too badly. The Company of the Rose were some of the finest soldiers in Essos, that much Beron knew. His sword was cleaving through them though, and his body was only mildly aching, which he supposed was a good thing. He was never quite sure on that point anymore. He felt something hit him in the chest, wind came out, his body moaned and groaned. He buried the pain and kept going.  Beron knew that there would be time for more rest later for now he had to keep pushing.

There was a boy around the age of Donnor standing before him, his weapon bigger than his head. He felt like crying when he cut the poor boy down. The boy simply stood there then slumped, and Beron wondered whether or not there was another way to settle this. As he killed another person who had come from the north many years ago, he started wondering why Edric was so willing to sacrifice his men, and his women for this. Would Edric even make a good Lord of Winterfell after so many years fighting? Beron remembered his father’s words. Edric had always been a fighter, whilst Serena had been the schemer. The northern lords would not accept that. There was more to being lord than fighting.

Beron felt woozy, he knew somewhere that he should take a break, pull back from the fighting and allow others, more qualified than he at this present moment to command. Be it Lord Cerwyn or Lord Tallhart or Lord Glover. Yet he kept fighting. Beron knew the men of the north. He knew that if he even for one moment seemed to be slackening, to be weakening, they would pounce on that and then everything would go to shit. The men would lose hope and the enemy would win. He blinked, straightened himself and was renewed. He could not allow the enemy to win. He bit down as his back pained with great pressure.

The enemy came forward in great numbers, he found himself wondering where they had come from. The Company seemed to have broken, for these were Bolton men, Karstark men and others. All dedicated to some purpose or the other. He slumped slightly, and then straightened, chastising himself. He stared through the slits of his helm and saw boys dying, crying for their mothers. He saw men his own age praying for release, release which was either swiftly delivered or delayed. There were no old men. The old would never fight in the north, always outside the north. To die far from home, where none could speak of the shit and the stink of death. The young did not care, they wanted glory.

Beron saw victory as the enemy started retreating. He roared commands, kept his men under command so that they would not falter now and bring something but shame to themselves, and to him. He kept going, the enemy was nearly gone, and then there it was, a boy, who looked exactly like he did at the age when his uncle died. Staring at him with scared little grey eyes. Beron faltered. And as he did that, the enemy came and then there was nothing.


	40. Aelinor II

** Chapter 40: Aelinor II **

****

The pain ate away at her resolve. It reduced her to a screaming mess, and she hated that. Aelinor had always prided herself on her dignity and her ability to withstand anything. She had needed that in Aerys court, where her husband had not touched her until she had given him something. And now the birth it seemed had been the gods punishment for her breaking of the natural order. She had given birth, to a girl, not a boy, and she had writhed in agony ever since. She saw stars sometimes, but she fought, she had to keep fighting, her daughter needed her.

She felt someone put a towel to her forehead. “What day is it?” She asked. Aelinor heard the breathing of the person and knew that it was Shiera, her friend, her only friend here.

“The day of the summer feast, Your Majesty.” Shiera replied. The summer feast an event that had been there since the reign of the Dragon, to celebrate the good bounty and the ending of any bad harvests as was the case now.

“My daughter, how is she doing?” Aelinor asked, the pain grew whenever she thought of her daughter and she did not know why. Why were the gods punishing her like this?

“She is doing well, Your Majesty.” Shiera replied. “The King is with her, he visits her before he attends to his books.”

“So, the King does not attend council meetings, still?” Aelinor asked, she was not sure why she was surprised by this. Aerys had never shown an inkling to wanting to know how to rule.

“No, Your Majesty, though Brynden says that the lords will soon be meeting.” Shiera responded.

Aelinor nodded, she was grateful that at least in this her will was being respected. She might not have given birth to a son, but at least her daughter would reign as Queen should something happen to Aerys. She felt herself drifting off to sleep and so allowed it to consume her. The Maesters all told her that this was necessary. She evened out her breathing as dreams consumed her.

_There was someone standing on a corner, waiting for her. Aelinor could not see the figure’s face, but somehow she knew that she knew the person. She walked toward them and they said. “I have waited for you for a long time.”_

_“Who are you?” Aelinor asked, the feeling that she knew this person was growing and she did not know why._

_“I am everything that was and will be.” The figure replied. “And you are someone I wish to speak with.”_

_“Why?” Aelinor asked. “What do you want with me?”_

_The figure smiled, at least that’s what Aelinor thought they were doing, it was hard to tell. “I have come to tell you that your burden is over. You no longer have to bear the ordeals that the man you call husband and King has put before you. You can leave and join others in your life of happiness.”_

_Aelinor gasped. “Am I dying?” She asked. She did not think she could die now, not with her daughter needing her._

_“You are.” The figure replied, and then as if hearing her thoughts, the figure continued. “There is no daughter.”_

_Aelinor laughed. “What do you mean I don’t have a daughter?” That was a ridiculous thing to say of course she had a daughter. “Shiera told me that I do.”_

_The figure sighed. “Do you remember holding the child in your arms? Hearing it cry? Do you remember naming it?”_

_Aelinor wanted to protest and say that she did remember, that she remembered it all, but she drew up blank. “No.” she whispered. “Why would Shiera lie?”_

_The figure put a hand on her shoulder. “Because you are dying. The child was born dead, with wings and scales. The potion that Shiera Seastar gave you to use on the King ended up poisoning you and the babe. It cannot survive and neither can you. The King is calling lords to meet to discuss the succession and to confirm whether Rhaegel or his son will inherit the throne.”_

_Aelinor stared at the figure. Horror dawning on her. “Are you the stranger?” She asked, fighting the fear that was developing in her._

_The figure did not immediately respond, instead it changed where they were, and now there was a cool breeze. “I am many things, my Queen. Now, I ask, do you wish to leave?”_

_Aelinor thought about it, and she wondered what there was that stayed her hand, if there was anything. She was a Queen without children, without a husband, she would not be missed. Not by anyone. Not even by Shiera who had lied to her. She had been so excited as a girl to be marrying a Prince, then she had learned who it was she was marrying and she had still been excited. Then she had married him and her hopes had died. Aerys was nothing more than a book reader. She would have nothing, he would likely not even notice if she died. Nobody would. She was the Queen who no one knew. She took a breath and then said. “Yes.”_

_The figure nodded. “Then take my hand.” Aelinor reached out and their hands linked, she felt something shifting through her, some force of energy it worried her at first. “Do not be scared.” The figure said. “That is the way the world handles the change that comes with death. Do not worry, my Queen, your life is at an end now, your worries have stopped.”_

_As the change continued and the world shifted before her, she asked. “Where will I go?”_

_“To where the gods await, and where there are things to soothe your heart, it has yearned for more for many years.” The figure replied._

_Aelinor was not sure what to make of that, but as she went to ask another question she saw them. Golden gates, and trees and gardens, and pools of water. People singing and laughing. She saw Baelor there, Jenna, Valarr and Matarys and her father and mother. She smiled. They waved to her, and she waved back. She was home, finally._


	41. Shiera III

** Chapter 41: Shiera III **

****

The Queen was dead, almost a year after giving birth to a stillborn daughter who had been born with dragon wings and scales and a tail. Shiera felt sorry for the woman, she had been dealt a heavy blow by the gods and by her family by marrying Aerys, perhaps if she had married Baelor instead things might have been better. Not for the first time, Shiera found herself thanking the gods that her own children were healthy. Melissa was demonstrating sharp characteristics at the age of a year, and her brother Aerys was sure to be someone who would challenge many things as he got older. It was of them that she thought of as she asked her husband.

“What will happen now that the Queen is dead?” The King had not reacted well to being told his wife was gone, in a rare display of emotion for Aerys he had even thrown something according to Brynden.

Her husband looked worn and tired, his pale skin even paler, his blood red eye even redder. He did not immediately respond, but when he did his words were careful. “The King has gone back to his books and demanded that I take control of the council completely. He does not wish to be involved in anything. He asked me if it were possible to bring the Queen back.”

Shiera gasped, there was a way to do it, but it was not a proper manner. “What did you say?”

Brynden put a hand to his cheek. “I said there was not. He threw something at me.”

Shiera was surprised by that, it seemed that the King had truly been affected by his wife’s death. Though he had never really paid attention to her in life. “Why is he acting as if he cares all of a sudden? He never bothered with Aelinor when she was alive.”

“That is why.” Brynden responded. “He feels that he drove her toward using some desperate method to get pregnant, and he feels that if he had actually paid attention that things would have gone better for them both.” There was a pause and then her husband continued. “He does not know where she got the potion from, and he does not wish to know. But I think it would be best if we destroyed any and all record of it.”

“Of course.” Shiera responded. She thought about how much would need to be destroyed and whilst she mourned for it, she knew that was better than allowing something potentially harmful to her husband and her children from happening. “So, you will remain as Hand?” She asked.

“I will.” Brynden replied nodding. “However, I think we should extend an olive branch to Maekar.”

Shiera raised an eyebrow. “I thought the Prince had made it perfectly clear where he stood following the event of that Septon’s rebellion.” Maekar had sent a strongly worded letter to Brynden renouncing him for a fool and a pauper, and that the next time, Maekar would march and knock some sense into him, himself.

Brynden snorted. “He might have made it clear then, but he must know that the King called a council for the succession. Rhaegel is too mad to sit the throne after Aerys, Aelor is too young to sit on the council. Therefore Maekar as the most senior member of the family must sit on the council.” There was something like resignation in her husband’s voice.

“You do not seem enthused by this?” Shiera pointed out. Her husband snorted, Brynden seemed incredibly tired as of late, as if there was a great weight that had only gotten greater over the years. She wished she could take on some of that burden.

“I think that Maekar would make a good administrator, the profits he has yielded for Summerhall are better than anything else in the Stormlands, the Riverlands or the Reach, which says a lot considering how badly the Stormlands was affected by the Spring Sickness. He has also managed to corral Daeron into something of a reasonable man. I just worry that he might try and push too far on certain things. Such as the war in the north.” Brynden responded.

“The Starks won’t take well to anyone but themselves sorting that dispute out.” Shiera agreed. She knew the northmen, having known Jonnel Stark and Barthogan Stark somewhat during her life. “So, you think he will push for the throne to be much more active than is right, and that this will cause tension.”

“Yes. The Ironborn might be growing stronger again under Dagon Greyjoy, but I do not think they have the strength to raid the Westerlands and the north. Not anymore. I think we must let the north sort itself out and progress from there.” Brynden responded.

“And what about the Blackfyres? Are they still fighting in that war?” Shiera asked, she had heard about the fighting in the Golden Fields and the mass war the Free Cities had gotten involved in. It seemed as though the world was going mad when Bittersteel decided to get involved in a war that was sure to drag on forever.

“Yes. Bittersteel has gotten it into his head that he can convince the Red Priests of Asshai to side with him completely.” Brynden responded. At her raised expression, he continued. “I’ve had my spies communicate with them. They are reducing the company to little more than burned ruins. Aegor will not be able to raise a fight in any time for some time. My greater concern is Aerion. He is commander of the Company of the Cat, now that Balerion is dead. Which means he has an army of men loyal to him.”

“You think he will try and do something?” Shiera asked, Aerion Targaryen had been half mad and full of contempt for everyone and everything the last time she had seen him some four years ago.

“I would not put it passed him. And he has shown himself capable in command and in battle. I do not know if the lords of Westeros would rise for him, but if he came for his father, they might do.” Brynden responded.

“SO what are you going to do?” Shiera asked.

Her husband smiled. “What I do best. Watch and plan.”

 

 


	42. Maekar VI

** Chapter 42: Maekar VI **

****

The Queen and her child were dead, the child had been a girl and therefore not in line to the throne. That meant that Rhaegel was now their brother’s heir, and as much as Maekar loved his brother he knew the man was in no fit state to be King. Rhaegel had always been a unique person, incredibly kind and incredibly mad, he had always been sheltered and protected. Maekar suspected that that might have been Bloodraven’s plan, to get the Queen out of the way and any competitor for influence, once it had been revealed that the child she had produced was a girl. And now he had been summoned to court, the words were in his brother’s handwriting, but they were most definitely Bloodraven’s.

Maekar had ensured everything was packed and ready for his departure, but there were some things he had to sort out first of all. The most important being telling his son what he expected of him. Daeron had improved in the years since he had stopped drinking, but still Maekar had to make sure his son did not slip back into bad habits. “Now, as ruling Prince of Summerhall, whilst I am away, you shall need to meet with the council of the Marches, you will need to read through the documents in my study to keep yourself up to date with everything that needs to be sorted and done. You should listen to the Maester and to Ser Vylarr Swann they will help you.” His son nodded and Maekar continued. “And make sure to keep your sisters occupied with games and do not let anyone approach them beyond the necessary time.” Daella was fourteen and growing into a beauty, Maekar knew that he would soon need to arrange a marriage for her.

“I will, Father.” His son replied softly.

Maekar sensed some sort of hesitancy in his son, which made him continue. “Daeron, you will be given a hefty responsibility. The Marcher lords will be looking for any hint of weakness or doubt in your person. That is not something you can afford to give them. You must keep up to date with any and all information that is passed to you. And you must ensure that your mind is clear as well as your focus.” He looked at his son meaningfully, his son had not touched drink in years, and had also not visited any whorehouses in the same time. But still the fear was there.

“Father, I’m not going to touch alcohol or whores.” Daeron replied tiredly. “I’ve been speaking with the Maester and he’s been giving me things to help.”

That was what concerned Maekar, the Maester was a new one, fresh from the citadel some two moons back, to help as Maekar’s current maester was getting on in years and was less reliable at times. Maekar was not sure whether this current one was reliable or not, but he hoped that he was. he did not want to have to stage a war on Oldtown. “Just make sure to listen to all sides before reaching decisions.”

“Yes, Father.” His son replied. Maekar nodded patted his son’s shoulder then walked onward, toward his daughters rooms. He opened the door, Rhae was asleep, she was quite unwell, with some stomach problem, but Daella was up and about.

“Are you leaving now, Father?” Daella asked, there were times when his eldest daughter reminded him of Dyanna, and times when she reminded him of himself at her age. Now she reminded him of a cross between the two of them, her hair loose and flowing, her eyes sharp and looking intently at him.

“I am.” Maekar replied, then as Daella went to wake up Rhae, he shook his head. “Don’t let her sleep.” His youngest daughter needed her rest. “I just wanted to say that I wish for you both to behave whilst I am away, and that you must be there for Daeron if he needs someone to listen to him.”

“I will be there.” Daella replied solemnly.

“Good.” Maekar replied then he hugged his daughter and kissed her on the top of the head. He then leaned over and kissed Rhae’s forehead, his youngest daughter woke up briefly.

“Bye Papa.” She replied.

“Bye, sweetling.” Maekar responded, he smiled to his daughters, then turned and walked out of their room. He made his way to the courtyard where his horse was ready and waiting. He got onto it, and gave the call, the gates were opened and out he rode.

As they made the week long journey to King’s Landing, Maekar had time to think to himself about what he wanted to do when in the capital. His brother’s letter had made it clear that he was there as an advisor, not as a member of the small council, even though he knew there were some three positions that were vacant, all due to deaths. Perhaps his brother would be persuaded away from Bloodraven’s influence to give him his due. He also wondered where his son was. He had not heard from Egg in some time, the last being when his son had been in Dorne during the sickness. That was sometime ago though, and he knew that perhaps he should have thought about that before.

That was one of his biggest faults he could admit to, that he never truly thought about the individuals behind the bigger plays. He was a general, a commander, always had been. He loved his children, but with his daughters it was just easier to think of them as individuals rather than as pieces to be moved about on the field of battle. He did not know why that was, when usually with other men it was the other way around. Perhaps that was the influence of his mother, perhaps not. Regardless, there was no point thinking about that now. He pushed the thought down, and for the rest of the journey simply rode with an empty mind.

They arrived in King’s Landing to a blistering hot day and summer sun pounding down without a care in the world. Maekar nodded to the people on the street who looked at him and when he arrived at the Red Keep, he was surprised to see his brother there waiting for him. He dismounted and bowed before his brother. “Your Majesty.”

“Rise. We have work to do.” The King responded.


	43. Lorra II

** Chapter 43: Lorra II **

****

Winter looked as if it might be approaching and with this war looking no closer to ending, Lorra worried about whether they would have enough supplies to provide for the people and for themselves. Donnor was fine as were Willam and Artos, but Errold was ill, and the girls were somewhere in between. She knew that there were people out there dying and starving for her children, and that she should be thinking of them, but still she had her children to think about, she was still a Mother after all. Beron had been brought back to Winterfell to recover, after taking a serious injury at the Battle of the White Knife, leaving Lord Cerwyn in command, and he was next to her now.

“Do you think we can continue fighting this war?” Lorra asked him, she saw no point in trying to beat around the bush.

Beron sighed. “I believe that we can, the men are willing to fight and die for as long as possible. However, we do not have sufficient food to keep everyone fed, and no matter what the men might say, they are still men and they will want food in their bellies.”

“And of course with winter looking as though it is about to set in at any moment, that is surely to become a higher pressing issue than anything else.” Lorra said. She looked at her husband, he had a solid gash across his face from a blade, and she knew his back was littered with scars, as was his chest. “Do you think Edric can keep fighting with his men needing payment?”

Beron sighed again. “I think they’ve reached some sort of agreement with Karstark and Bolton, those two are providing the bulk of the financial resources, whilst the Iron Bank funds Edric as well. I think he’s counting on turning the tide now that I am not in the field. Something about the Starks always needing to command from the front, despite his lack of presence at the White Knife.” There was a hint of bitterness in her husband’s tone then. “Umber is with him now as well, the man’s son has married Edric’s daughter so we need something big to happen to change that.”

Lorra knew that this likely wouldn’t help her husband’s mood, which was increasingly sour, but she had to ask. “Why are people like Umber siding with him? Do they not realise that they might well be supplanted by the men of the Company of the Rose?”

“They believe that the Company will meld into something more of a direct force, stationed at Winterfell. That their relatives will either die during the fighting or something else will be done with them. With Ryswell and Dustin beating down the door of the Manderlys I think they might be right.” Beron responded.

Her husband had sent the Ryswells and the Dustins with their men to harass Manderly riders who had been seen travelling between White Harbour and the Dreadfort, that Manderly might be supporting Edric had come as a huge blow to her husband. “Do you think Manderly has gotten the message?” She asked.

“I think so, the reports from Ryswell and Dustin state that Manderly’s riders have stopped moving and that Manderly has closed his gates completely. Of course that means that no trade or money can come into the north for either myself or for Edric. Which I suppose is a good thing in a manner of speaking.” Beron replied.

“What about us, the Boltons, Karstarks, Umbers  and Hornwoods might not make up a huge tax base, but they contribute a sizeable amount. If they are funding Edric alongside the Iron Bank, that would necessitate you increasing taxation on those who are supporting us. That is something that won’t go down well with the clans or with the Reeds.” Lorra said.

Her husband gave her a look that suggested he knew just how little he appreciated that point. “The Clans are bleeding and dying fighting Umber men and his bannermen. I think Glover, Ryswell, Dustin, Tallhart and Cerwyn make up a fair tax base. The cranogmen have their hands full fighting the Freys at the moment. And with the Ironborn sniffing around I think we might need to move more men around.”

That raised another query that Lorra had, or rather another fear. “Will Glover keep to the betrothal between Donnor and his daughter? I know the man was pushing for a command post following the White Knife, that you stuck with Cerwyn might make him consider changing sides.”

Beron sighed. “I had thought of that, but then I remembered something. Glover’s father was killed by Edric during his little rebellion all those years ago. That is something Glover has never forgiven Edric for. I believe he will remain true, though a generalship might be in order.”

“I agree.” Lorra replied.

“How are the children doing?” Beron asked. “I feel as though I’ve barely seen them.”

That much was true, Beron was hardly awake due to the pain of his wounds. “Donnor is getting along well in his lessons. Willam and Artos are proving to be quite the warriors in the making, Errold and Rodrik continue playing pranks and Berena and Alysanne keep asking when they will get to see the production of the Green Grass play.”

“Green Grass play?” Beron asked.

“The play about the man and the viper that you told them about. You had said before this war began that you would have actors come and perform it for them. to show them something of your childhood.” Lorra reminded her husband.

“Ah, of course.” Beron replied, a sad look crossing his face. “I’ll need to get to work on that.”

“After you’ve gotten better. We can’t have you injuring yourself further.” Lorra replied.

Beron sighed. “Of course.” They kissed briefly, then Beron laid his head down on the bed and closed his eyes. Lorra watched her husband sleep and worried about the future.


	44. Aegon V

** Chapter 44: Aegon V **

****

The war in the north was like nothing he’d ever seen or read about. There were no songs being sung here, in the cold, the wet and the damp. Instead there were men and boys fighting and dying for men and commanders who appeared distant. The commanders barked orders and shouted commands and even if the men were terrified they stood strong and they fought. Brother had killed brother, father had killed son, son had killed father, and oh it seemed so very terrible. Aegon had fought alongside Ser Duncan and the other knights and their squires, and he had killed a man, maybe two, he could not remember. The Battle of The White Knife was a blur to him, a mess of death, blood and stink.

Egg shifted slightly and found Ser Duncan looking at him. “What, is it Ser?” He asked. Ser Duncan had seemed oddly worried following the white knife.

“How are you keeping up lad?” The knight asked.

“Well enough, Ser. I just can’t sleep is all.” Egg replied. That was only half a lie. He couldn’t sleep and he didn’t want to sleep.

“Is there anything you want to talk about, lad?” The knight asked.

Egg shifted uncertain over whether he could give an honest answer, he didn’t want the knight to think less of him. Eventually he said. “I don’t know how you do it, Ser. How do you fight battles like this, knowing what is to come and not feel afraid, and not feel scared? How do you fight and watch people die and know that nothing else might be done for them?”

The words had come out in a rush, and Egg immediately wanted to call them back. But the knight surprised him. “I am afraid, lad. Every time I go out to fight, I am afraid, and scared. Everyone who fights is afraid. They just don’t show it. You’d have to be mad not to be afraid. Being afraid keeps you alive.” The knight paused for breath, then continued. “You have to know when to allow your emotions out, and you have to know when to keep them contained. You cannot act like an emotionless bag of bones, that does nobody any good, but you cannot act like a emotional woman. You must keep things balanced.”

That didn’t help Egg much, in fact it just confused him more. “How can I keep a balance, Ser? Do you keep a balance?”

The knight laughed. “Sometimes, lad, I think it’s best to let your emotions and your mind decide what to do. But sometimes, no I haven’t kept a balance, during the battle of white knife I was terrified, terrified that something would happen to you and that I would have to grieve. Terrified that something might go wrong. But other times I have found breathing deeply before a battle helps.”

Egg was even more confused. “So, what should I do, before the next battle?” He was not naïve, he knew there would be more fighting, there wasn’t going to be an end to the fighting, unless someone else decided.

“I think you have to take a breath, and just empty your mind.” Ser Duncan replied. “Empty your mind of anything and everything, and let your body take over.”

Egg nodded, and took a breath there and then, he wanted to see whether what the man had suggested would work. After some time, he stopped, and then asked. “Do you think this war will ever end?”

The knight sighed. “I do not know, lad. I think both Starks are determined to fight until the other is dead. Beron Stark is in Winterfell recovering, but he is still alive. And Lord Cerwyn has won a few victories since then. I think they will keep fighting.”

Egg considered this and remembered the boys, his friends looking at him with unseeing eyes. The boys who cried for relief, who cried for their mothers, who would never go home. He considered that and then he said. “Do you think the war would end if I revealed who I was?”

The knight looked at him surprised. “Lad, you know that’s something that is likely to put you in more danger than solve anything.”

“I know, but it if means getting these two sides to talk to one another and preventing more unnecessary bloodshed, surely that would be worth while?” Egg responded.

“Do you honestly think Edric Stark, a man who is so hellbent on getting Winterfell, that he is willing to kill most of the people he would be ruling over and his own nephew, would be willing to consider sitting down and talking, just because of you? You said yourself that he sided with Daemon Blackfyre during that man’s rebellion. What’s there to say he doesn’t make you a prisoner?” Ser Duncan replied.

Egg thought about that and then replied. “I don’t think that Edric Stark would be the one I would approach. I think going to Beron Stark and talking with him about this, and trying to get him to see sense would be the best option.”

“And what makes you think he would listen? What would you even say to convince him that he should stop fighting the man who would take everything from him?” Ser Duncan asked.

Egg had thought about this before, during the long slog that had been the white knife. “I would invoke the highest authority in the land. They have been hurting the north, the north belongs to the crown. Therefore they must answer for their actions to the crown. I would ask them to both come to King’s Landing to sort this out.”

“And do you think that would happen?” Ser Duncan asked.

Egg wanted to shrug but he knew he had to be confident here. “I think it would. Neither side can keep fighting indefinitely. They will be looking for a way out. Why not give them the right one?”

“If you think it is the right decision.” Ser Duncan replied. Egg got the feeling the man was hoping he would forget about this, but now that it was in his head, he would have to see it through.


	45. Aerion XI

** Chapter 45: Aerion XI **

****

The heat was growing insufferable. They were lucky to have as much water as they did. Aerion was not sure just how much more of this the men could take. A good few moons had passed since the last proper fight, and now they were resorting to skirmishes and wild sorties. The scar above his right eye was a result of one such thing. The perks of being Field General, and commander of the Company of the Cat. Wounds were easy to come by.

“We’re running on high fumes here.” He said to his captains, men who had fought alongside him for the past two years and had bled alongside him. The old guard had died with Balerion or shortly afterwards. “We cannot keep pushing through the terrain and expecting to get a different result. These people are going to keep hounding us until we either cave or we destroy them.” Aerion took a breath, the looked at Lonnel. “Captain-General Snow, how much longer can we take this?”

As always Lonnel knew exactly what he was asking. “We’ve got another three to four moons worth of supply left, Field General. We cannot stand another brutal assault as the Fire Priests unleashed three weeks ago. But since then they’ve suffered defeats at the hands of the Dothraki and the Golden Company.”

Aerion wanted to sigh, but he had learned over time that sighing or showing any signs of weakness as a commander was a terrible idea. “So, the company and the Dothraki might well handle the worst of the insufferable idiots fighting this damned war.” That was a pleasant thought, he’d seen far too many good men brought down low by the burning flames of the fire priests. “Do we know whether or not Volantis and Braavos have produced a result in their little duel?” The naval battle between those two cities was supposed to be a thing of legend.

It was Captain-General Markham who replied, the man had a missing eye, but could kill someone from three hundred paces. “No, Field-General. There’s been no word of what those idiots are doing to each other. The only thing I’ve heard is that the Sealord wants us to continue fighting here.”

Aerion grunted. Of course the fucking Sealord wanted them to keep fighting. The man wanted the piece of land that was now known to the soldiers as the Bloody Fields not the Golden Fields. If there were minerals in the ground, Aerion had not seen them and they likely would not be of much use after two or three years of fighting. “And, if we keep fighting, whom shall we target?” He knew the Golden Company and the Second Sons alliance had been broken, something about a whore. The Dothraki continued attacking and then retreating. The Bearded Priests had been massacred, but more of them were coming, and of course the Unsullied stood defiant as always.

“If I might, Field-General?” Lonnel stated.

“Go on.” Aerion said.

“The Company and the Second Sons are the ones we can take on directly. We have similar numbers, we have similar tactics, they don’t have the war elephants anymore. We can move and we can strike hard and fast. Capture the southern outpost they hold, we have a valuable region and then we can sell it to Braavos and return home.” Lonnel said.

“Home?” Markham responded. “What bloody home? We are sellswords Snow, our home is the battlefield. We should be willing to fight and die there for as long as we are able. This talk of home is not fitting for someone such as yourself.” The man then turned to Aerion and said. “Field-General, you are the commander of this most prestigious company, even if the men are aching and broken, they will keep fighting right until the bitter end if you say so.”

“And you think I should?” Aerion asked. It did not surprise him. Markham was one of those men who lived and died for war. Who could not imagine not fighting. Whose very existence was based on the act of war. “How many men must die before you realise that this is not something we can win on our own?”

Markham snorted. “You are afraid to keep fighting, the battle has done things to your mind. You have become weak.”

Aerion bit down the angry retort that had been forming on his lips. Markham was no doubt tired and scared and wanting to return to a life of simply guarding, that was what the Company had done before he had joined, before this war. “I will let that slide, Captain, but remember, that I am your commander, not your friend.” The man did not reply, Aerion turned to Lonnel. “We have two options. Continue fighting blindly or attempt to capture Aegor Rivers. Personally I prefer the latter option and I think that is the option we should go for.” He knew that Rivers had gotten more rash and stupider since their first confrontation. If he could capture Rivers then perhaps things might be easier and he could return home sooner.

Lonnel evidently knew what he was thinking, for he replied. “Rivers has been seen prowling up and down the initial detachment for the Company and ensuring that the Second Sons do not get any further than he deems appropriate. However, I do think he has bulked up the guard that he has. That will make a direct draw to combat much more difficult. We shall need to engage in an attack on their guard routine, which will require standing strong and tall through the swamps of blood.”

The swamps were what any sane minded person called the rings of fire and the trenches that had been dug up between here and where the Golden Company had stationed their men. Aerion took a moment to think about this. There would likely be a reckoning of some sort sooner or later, and he would rather hold it when he could still stand the sight of blood than after. For he knew his tolerance was being pushed. “Then I suggest we get the men prepared. We shall get this done before the moon is over.” That meant within the week. To do something again would be a relief.


	46. Bloodraven IV

** Chapter 46: Bloodraven IV **

****

Brynden sighed, there were times when he really wished Aerys would show any of the sort of fire that his father or his brother had shown. Instead since the Queen’s death, the King had kept his head buried inside one book after another, looking for something, anything to distract him from his guilt. As a result Brynden could have sworn his hair was starting to get grey. If that were even possible. He took a breath then spoke to the council.

“The city has seen the number of arrests go down, as the people find steady employment and begin making money. There are fewer people needing to use the shelters that had been set up when the sickness hit. Consequently, we are seeing more custom and as such the city is growing.” Brynden was happy with that, if the capital was progressing then other places would as well. “As such, there has been a letter from the chief representative of the worker’s guild.” Guilds had started forming following the Sickness, with people such as carpenters and smiths getting together to demand protections. “The man wishes to discuss something about a protection area, to prevent thieves and beggars coming in and chasing away business.”

The Grand Maester, a small man, whose name Brynden knew but didn’t think it worth mentioning spoke up. “There was something like that proposed during the reign of King Aegon, I do not think it got very far.” The man had been Grand Maester for a year and a half, and was a bit doddering. He was incredibly old and would die soon.

Brynden nodded and continued. “There is also the matter of the Faith, the Most Devout have slowly been rebuilding their ranks, the High Septon has been confirmed as we expected. As such they wish to continue working with the throne on the matter of the removal of poverty action that started before the sickness.” This was a motion that King Daeron had taken quite personally, and had invested most of his time in. “I want to know who will volunteer from each of your households before the week is over.”

“I think I can send about twenty people to help.” Lord Celtigar, the master of laws said.

Brynden nodded, then turned the focus to the Riverlands and the Reach the two areas that had truly been affected by the sickness. “Work in the Riverlands is coming along quite well. Lord Tully has written to say that he has developed a new system of keeping the workers going. And as such productivity has grown some three or four percent. The Brackens and the Blackwoods have set aside their differences and are working together to ensure peace.” That had everything to do with Brynden dangling Ser Otho over their heads. “As for the Reach, Lord Matthos writes that things are settling down. The Florents have accepted the judgement on their border dispute with the Tarlys. The Osgreys are balanced out in Coldmoat and Standfast, and Lady Webber has set aside the right amount of funds for her son’s regency.” He had worried about that, the thought of the Osgrey heir moving to Casterly Rock did not impress him. “All in all the realm is reasonably peaceful.”

“And thank the Seven for that.” Lord Mallister, who was master of coin said. “Another war across the kingdom would be ruinous.”

“There is a war raging in the north though, my lords.” Maekar said. The man was an advisor but he often dominated discussions in council meetings, not that Brynden was opposed to that. He had a lot of good ideas. “The civil war in the north is destroying that kingdom, and breeding chaos. The longer it remains unchecked and undealt with the more troubling the conclusions shall be.”

“And what do you think the conclusions will be?” Celtigar asked, Brynden knew the man did not like Maekar.

“I believe it will be a continuing state of flux in the north. Beron Stark is the rightful Lord of Winterfell, but if he dies during the war then his son will inherit and the boy is just that a boy. Edric Stark and his son Cregard are men, full grown men with a weight of experience behind them. They might not be natives anymore, but they know how the northmen think. Furthermore, the Company of the Rose would become a standing northern army, something that would jeopardise the crown’s ability to handle future conflicts. This will lead to nothing more than future bloodshed.” Maekar replied.

Brynden did not disagree with his nephew, yet he waited to see how others would respond. “So, what? Do we intervene? We would not be welcome there. The northmen are barely welcoming to themselves, let alone outsiders.” Lord Mallister replied.

“If we do nothing, when this war comes to a conclusion either side would consider independence a better bet than staying with the throne. For if the throne does not help, then they will consider us nothing more than useless burdens.” Maekar replied. He was right, though Mallister and Celtigar might not want to admit it, they could not lose the north. If they lost the north then they were doomed for possible separatist movements elsewhere.

“Who would you suggest sending? Where would you suggest sending aid?” Brynden asked. He wanted to know. White Harbour was closed and there were no other ports.

“We need not send men to fight and die. I have had a letter from Aegon, and he has said that he has spoken with both Lord Beron and Edric Stark and that they are willing to discuss terms with a mediator present.” Maekar said looking quite smug. Brynden knew then that the man had been planning to say this the entire time.

“When?” Brynden asked trying to hide his surprise.

“As soon as possible.” Maekar responded. “We do not know when either side could change their mind.”

“Very well, I shall speak with the King and arrange for ambassadors to go.” Brynden said. Maekar nodded, and Brynden wondered just what game his nephew was playing. For unlike everyone else at the table, he could not read his nephew.

 


	47. Aegor IV

 

** Chapter 47: Aegor IV **

****

War was the only game he considered worth playing. He was good at politics, at battling the others who were on the board. Yet, war was where he truly felt alive. Where he knew how to dance and how to parry and move without giving away anything. Now, with the fighting wearing on, with two years-or was it three- having worn on throughout the age, Aegor was beginning to consider whether he should pull his men out. They had gathered all the resources that could be considered useful from this fight, and they were being paid regularly. They had gotten control of the northern side of the Golden Fields, as they had been asked.

Now the fighting raged around him. Aegor knew that there was little chance of breaking the fighting. They would keep going, for he had taught the Golden Company the meaning of discipline and he intended to keep to that very same mantra. Some boy bearing the sigil of the Company of the Cat tried to get near him, he swatted him away and then killed his friend. Bludgeoning them with ruthless precision as was his way. Aegor had never seen the reasons for treating children as any different to men on the field of battle.

Another child came hurtling toward him, no doubt thinking that they could best him. That was a laugh, there were only two people who could have bested him, and they were both dead. The one eyed bastard had defeated him only with trickery, and even then that would not count as such. The boy died, and Aegor moved on. As he did so, he assessed the rungs of battle. The company were moving swiftly through the ranks of the cat, and they could well fend off the attack. It seemed easy, too easy. Aegor was used to things not being easy and therefore his guard was up.

Another came forward, this was something that Aegor expected and therefore he knew what to look for. He killed the boy and then five of them came. He fought them one by one, swung, blocked and fought. These were men not boys. They were better fighters, better balancers and more importantly they knew when to fight and when to wait. His grandfather had always told Aegor that that was the most important skill for a fighter. To know when to wait and strike. Too many fighters got themselves killed trying to do something, trying to be the hero.

Pain hit him after the fifth of the boys died. And he turned and saw why. The enemy was there waiting, Aerion Targaryen, the usurper’s grandson. They nodded to one another and began their dance. Swinging this way and that. Blows landed, blows missed. Others tried to come in between and they were swatted out of the way. Aegor knew that this was fighting against the new generation. Daemon’s sons were somewhere else on the field of battle. Fighting, preparing themselves for the war that would come. They would find Westeros again. He was sure of it.

Targaryen swung and Aegor ducked. He fought like Breakspear in some regards, there was careful poise and calculation behind his swings, but in other turns he fought more like his father using his weapon as a blunt instrument. And in other times he fought as someone Aegor had never fought. With raw power and energy. It was a fascinating mix of pain and power, and it was something he found interesting. The fight continued. Around them the world had gone silent, as if the fighters on all sides were coming to watch them duel.

There was pain lancing through him, his body had taken a great many blows. Too many perhaps to be precise, and yet he kept going. Aegor was not the sort of man to surrender, especially not to a Targaryen. He kept himself going, pushed through the pain and enjoyed watching the other man wince with agony himself. Aegor sensed that with one more fatal push the man would either die or be taken prisoner by Aegor and his men. They kept going. The dance weaving this way and that, the attitudes going some way and then the other. It was an intoxicating feeling, this being in the heart of the battle.

Aegor had long craved it, and had always achieved it someway or the other. Be it fighting the bastard one eye shit at the tourney ground as a youth, or in sparring, or elsewhere. They had fought and fought and Aegor had won nine times out of ten. The only time he hadn’t had been that fateful day on Redgrass, where he had taken the bastard’s eye. There was much he wished he had done differently, but no matter he would find some other way of making things work. They pushed through. The crowds had definitely stopped now, Aegor was sure of it. He laughed at the absurdity of the human mind and kept going.

There was pain again and again there was pain. It was coming from this side and that side. And then there was a blinding light, but he pushed through it ensuring that he could emerge again. Fighting, triumphant, but still hurting. Desperately so. There was something going on around him, some change in the way the Targaryen boy held himself. What it was Aegor did not know, he did not care to know, all he wanted to do was press onward. And so he did. He kept pushing, his sword singing true in his hand, until, his sword was not there. How it had happened he did not know, but Aerion Targaryen had his weapon to Aegor’s throat, a cocky smile on an unhelmet face. Aegor sighed, and said through gritted teeth. “You have my surrender.” He thought about it and thought of how this could benefit him, though for now he was too tired to move into such a thought properly.


	48. Rohanne

** Chapter 48: Rohanne **

****

Sometimes in her dreams, Rohanne could still see Daemon as he had been when they’d first married. Strong, tall, handsome even as a boy of fourteen. She’d loved him from the off, from the first moment they’d spoken at a ball. And he had loved her as well, despite what Aegor and Fireball had wanted the world to believe. He’d told her so over the years, when she’d heard the rumours of him and Daenerys. Had told her again after they’d heard the story Aegor had put about. He’d never stopped telling her he loved her and she missed him. She hated Aegor more than anything, hated him for making Daemon rebel, when all he’d wanted to be was a good lord and knight, and hated him for taking her children through the grinder. Especially Calla.

She had never understood why Daemon had agreed to betroth their daughter to Aegor, the man was in short a monster, but Daemon had always been fond of his younger brother. And now, as Rohanne looked at her daughter, now a woman she wondered what might have changed had she put her foot down. “You know that Aegor is doing this to get to Bloodraven, he does not truly care about the throne or about your brothers.” Rohanne said, they were in Tyrosh, waiting desperately for news to come. Calla stood before her, tall, defiant, so much like Daemon.

“That is a lie, Mother. We both know that is a lie. Aegor has done everything in his power to ensure that we are provided for, looked after and that we want for nothing.” Calla replied. With her silver hair, purple eyes and pretty almost god like looks, she was Daemon writ female. And she had his stubbornness as well.

“Then why does he insist on waging wars that bring nothing but death and cost nothing more than hundreds of thousands of dragons? We have more loans than we have credit, and that is doing nothing for any of us!” Rohanne replied. She knew that it was because of her connection with the ruling family of Tyrosh that they hadn’t been thrown out again. Their debts were growing was this war continued.

“Aegor has assured the Archon that the loans shall be repaid and Aegor has never defaulted on a single payment.” Calla retorted. “Honestly Mother, I think this is simply because he listens more to me than he does to you.”

Rohanne bit back a retort, this was her daughter she was speaking to, not her brother’s wife. She took a deep breath and then said. “Calla, dear, you know Aegor, you’ve been married to him for a long time. Tell me, do you think he truly cares about anything other than returning to Westeros to finish off what he started with Brynden Rivers?” She had heard about Brynden’s marriage to Shiera Seastar, and she had seen Calla’s tears, and she had been angry for her daughter. Daemon had long believed that if there were a war, it would be because of Bloodraven and Bittersteel, no one else wanted war.

“I believe that he wants to ensure that we get what is rightfully ours, as father intended!” Calla replied. Her daughter truly believed that the throne was their family’s birth right. Daemon had once told her that he had never been sure what his father had meant by giving him Blackfyre, and that he had offered it back to Daeron three times, only to be denied each time. “I also believe that you are scared, and that fear is turning you into an extra appendage that we do not need.”

Rohanne was offended by that, deeply offended. “If that is the case, then perhaps I should write to Aerys the pretender and ask him to accept me and your younger siblings back into his care. For I will not allow them to be slain for a needless war.”

The look on Calla’s face suggested that if Rohanne had been any other woman she would have been slapped there and then. “You will do no such thing. You are a member of the House Blackfyre. I remember you swore an oath to Father when he became King and again to Daemon, when we arrived in Tyrosh. Daemon might be a prisoner now, that does not always mean he will be!”

Rohanne stared at her daughter, wondering how she had allowed her eldest girl to become so far gone. She cursed Aegor, and she cursed Daemon the only man she had ever loved. “You wish to see your brother die on the altar of your husband’s ambition.” She kept her voice calm though anger was flowing through her. “I cannot be a party to that. I will not be a party to that.”

“Then you are a traitor and I shall order the household guards to arrest you.” Calla replied.

At that moment, the door opened and her youngest son Baelon entered, he was smaller than his brothers, with a streak of gold in his dark hair. He looked at them both and then asked. “What’s happening here?”

Rohanne said nothing, but Calla said. “Mother has said she wishes to take you and Rhaenyra and Viserys back to King’s Landing and betray our brother.”

Baelon laughed. “Come off it, Calla. We all know you’d never let that happen. So, why is there such hostility here?” Baelon was always the perceptive one, he was just over the age for manhood and as such had developed into a confident charming young man, she did not want to see him die in a field somewhere far from home.

Calla snorted, and said. “I shall leave you now, Mother, before we say things we’d both regret.” With that she nodded and left.

Baelon looked at her then and asked. “Are you okay, Mother?”

Rohanne smiled weakly, she did not feel okay, but she couldn’t tell her son that. He needed her to be strong, they all did. “I am, sweetling. And you?”

Baelon grinned. “Never better. Never better.” Rohanne knew he was lying but she let it be for now. A little lie wouldn’t hurt.


	49. Aelor I

** Chapter 49: Aelor I **

****

Being a Targaryen Prince came with perks, Aelor could admit that. There was never any fear of running out of money, there was never a chance that they would go hungry and even though Father was mad, they still got respect, indeed because father was a kind man, though a mad one, they were loved within King’s Landing and the Vale. Aelor liked being a Prince, and as the second in line to the throne, he looked forward to the day he would eventually sit on the thing. Right now though there were lessons in ruling that he had to learn, from his half Blackwood great uncle.

Brynden Rivers stood slightly taller than Aelor, perhaps by a few inches, nothing more. His one good eye was blood red, and it stared at Aelor, unnerving him slightly. “Now, tell me, Your Royal Highness, how would you assess whether a courtier is telling you the truth or a version that they think pleasing to you?”

Aelor often wondered why he had to answer this particular question, then he remembered why. King’s Landing was filled with snakes. “You would look at how they hold themselves, and their posture, their eyes, whether they look at you, or away from you. And whether they laugh or grin. Lord Rosby for example always laughs when he is elaborating on something. Lord Celtigar smirks.” Those two were men he neither liked nor respected, but they were important for the family.

“And if there are those who do not fit the pattern? Someone such as Lord Lannister, how would you identify whether they are speaking the truth or simply lying for their own gain?” Bloodraven asked.

Lord Lannister had come to King’s Landing a few days ago, to discuss something or the other, Aelor had not been privy to that discussion, but he knew that Lannister had asked for more than Bloodraven was willing to give. Aelor had observed Gerold Lannister, a man who had been young once, had golden hair, green eyes, a strong jaw, and a bit of a beard. He looked like a lion, perhaps he acted as one also. “I would observe his mannerisms, ensure that I knew how he spoke, and where he looked. Lord Lannister is someone who guards his emotions, his thoughts and his mind. But I think to assess whether he is lying, one would need to see how he speaks with his wife and children.” Lady Rohanne Webber was his wife, they’d married a year ago, after the death of her husband Lord Eustace. Lord Gerold served as the man’s children by Lady Rohanne and spoke with them often.

Bloodraven seemed intrigued by this. “And why do you say that?” There was something about Bloodraven that had never quite sat well with Aelor, there was a certain oddity to him. Aelor thought that he made a brilliant master of whispers, but a terrible hand due to his obsession with Bittersteel.

“Because the way a person speaks to a child is the way they might well speak to an adult. If they speak to their own child kindly, they might speak kindly to an adult, or with truth. People see children as a reflection of themselves and the society we all live in. That is something Maester Gerdarys has always said.” Aelor responded. Gerdarys was one of Aelor’s favourite authors, a man who knew more about what made up humanity than any of the so called psychics in the Faith.

“Interesting.” Bloodraven replied. Aelor had never actually seen the man before him interact with his children, sure they had been there at formal functions but there hadn’t been much discussion between them. Bloodraven had always interacted with his wife the Lady Shiera more. “And now, what is a duty of a ruler?”

This was a question that Bloodraven seemed very fond of. He asked Aelor this question at least a few dozen times whenever they met for these meetings. “A ruler’s duty is to ensure that the kingdom is at peace, that the people have food in their bellies and that the rule of law is obeyed. Should this not be met, then the ruler must see why it has not been and work toward addressing it. Otherwise he is not a true ruler and should not be seen as such.” There were times when Aelor wondered whether his uncle had actually thought of that or whether he kept reading his books.

“And when a ruler has to choose between the nation and his family, who should he choose? Especially when his family are at risk and the nation might be risked if he chooses to save them?” Bloodraven asked.

Aelor felt as though this was directly related to what was happening in the north with the struggles between the northmen and their various lords. Indeed, it seemed uncle Maekar had left for the north to sort this out and remind the Starks of this very question. Aelor considered it and thought of an appropriate answer. “I believe that if the ruler has to choose between his family and his nation then he has failed. The family is part of the nation and the nation is part of the family. He must do all he can to ensure that the two work together and never apart. For when there is division, there will only be chaos.”

Bloodraven nodded suitably impressed it seemed. “Now tell me, out of all the available maidens in the kingdom who do you wish to marry?”

This question completely threw Aelor, he was only fifteen, not yet ready for marriage, and besides he had always thought he’d marry Aelora or one of uncle Maekar’s daughters. But it seemed Bloodraven wanted to diversify things. “Maybe a Stark to ensure that they are tied to the realm. Maybe Lord Tully’s sister to ensure that the Riverlands stay tied to us, or perhaps Lord Tarly’s daughter as I know that Lord Tyrell has been concerned about Tarly.” Concerned was an understatement, Tyrell seemed to constantly fear sedition from Tarly.

Bloodraven nodded. “Interesting choices. From now on you shall attend meetings of the small council and assume your role as second in line to the throne.”

Aelor bowed. “Of course.” With that the man turned and left. Leaving Aelor to consider what might be happening in the future, and whether or not Bloodraven wanted to use him as a puppet or not.

 


	50. Edric III

** Chapter 50: Edric III **

****

“My lord, the delegation is quite clear in their demands, they want there to be misunderstanding, and they want you to come to Winterfell to ensure that there is proper representation of all sides.” Walter Long, a man who Edric had known his entire life said.

“And do you believe them?” Edric asked, he did not know whether his nephew was a Targaryen loyalist or not, but he did not trust the Targaryens.

“My lord, I think that this is an avenue worth exploring, we cannot keep fighting indefinitely.” Walter replied. The man was right, for nearly two years they’d been fighting and fighting, the Company was nearly depleted of men, and their financial resources were drying up.

“Lord Bolton?” Edric asked, the man had been silent for most of their meetings as of late, and it was beginning to make Edric quite nervous. “What do you think should be done?”

Bolton was missing an eye, having lost it during one of the many skirmishes that had taken place since the White Knife. “I believe, my lord, that this would be a good thing to pursue, there are times when one must venture to the battlefield, and times where one must venture to the solar to discuss issues, this is one of those times.”

“I would be more concerned about what Maekar Targaryen is doing here.” Osric Umber, Lord of Last Hearth and his daughter’s husband said. “That man is usually not someone who revels in diplomacy.”

Edric nodded as his advisors hummed out their agreement. That there had been a Targaryen Prince serving in Beron’s army had been something of a surprise, but that there had been another Prince coming to suggest talks for peace was another thing. Edric had never met Maekar Targaryen, he had met the man’s father and found him lacking. “Very well, and what do you suggest be the terms of our conditions?” Edric did not want peace, he wanted Winterfell, but he also knew that if they kept fighting, things would not end well.

Ser Ryam Long, a man who had fought for Edric for thirty years spoke then. “I think that the only demand that must be made, is that you get Winterfell, my lord. You are the rightful lord, and that is the only thing that matters.”

“I think there are valid concerns about what happens to Beron Stark and his children that need to be discussed.” Lord Karstark said. The man had grown stout in his old age, and his hair was greying quickly. “The man has some eight children, most of them boys, they are going to use some form of the declaration that Daeron Targaryen issued as well as the Blackfyre connection. You can be sure that man’s wife will use all avenues before her before she surrenders.”

“You also have two sons, my lord. They will need wives, and the Targaryens might suggest their own daughters as brides, to bring better relations.” Lord Bolton said, the way he said it made it seem as though he were not pleased with such a thought.

“A Targaryen marriage would not be a bad thing, my lords.” Lord Corwyn Locke said, the man was small, with one eye missing and the other almost permanently shut, yet he was a fierce fighter and a good commander. “A marriage with the Targaryens would show that the issues of the past are behind us, and that you, my lord are willing to ensure that there is some form of stability and righteousness within the world. The north is needed by the rest of Westeros, not the other way around.”

There were murmurs of agreement at that. “I agree with Lord Locke.” Lord Hornwood said, this Hornwood was a young man, tall, muscular, a beast on the field of battle. “The Targaryens know they need our support more than we need them, Beron has shown a willingness to discuss and talk, his sons are young, and his wife is not popular. We have it all to gain.”

“Very well, it has been decided then, No quarter shall be given in the negotiations.” Edric concluded, clapping his hands and rising, signalling the end of the meeting. He knew that the issue of his nephew and his family remained, but that was not a question he wanted to answer in front of his lords, not when he had to discuss it with himself. As the lords got up and left, only Cregard, his eldest son and heir was left.

“Are you going to allow them to live in Winterfell?” Cregard asked, his son was tall, brown of hair, brown of beard and grey of eye. A handsome man.

Edric sighed, he felt bone tired. “I do not know yet. They would be useful in keeping there, but also difficult to control.” He had spies in Winterfell. Beron Stark was ailing, his wounds taken at the White Knife were getting worse, but he showed no signs of dying yet. His wife continued to be a thorn in the side of Edric’s take over. “Has Cerwyn spoken yet?” They’d captured Lord Cerwyn, the commander of Beron Stark’s forces at the Battle of the Leaky Edge, and the man had been questioned intensely.

Cregard said nothing for a few moments, the boy merely fidgeted with some things here, and other things there. “I think there has been some movement from him yes. He’s no longer strangely denying the fact that Lorra Royce is looking or was looking to bring more men from the mountain clans to fight in the war. Nor is he denying that Glover and Beron had an argument that might have cost them a betrothal.”

“Very well, you may rest now.” Edric said. His son nodded and left the room, Edric remained where he was for a few moments before he rang a bell, a servant entered. “Tell the messenger that we shall meet for talks. Not in Winterfell but in neutral ground.”

The messenger bowed and left, Edric put a hand to his forehead and felt the wound there. It was growing bigger.

 

 


	51. Beron VI

** Chapter 51: Beron VI **

****

Winterfell was full, quite literally full. The entirety of the north had come, or rather the lords of the north and their men had come. And a royal contingent led by Prince Maekar had come. All to sort out the dispute between Beron and his uncle Edric over the succession. At first they had discussed perhaps having the meeting somewhere else, but then Lorra had said it would make sense to have the whole thing at Winterfell, to remind the people and Edric that Beron was Lord of Winterfell, and master of it as well. So, here they were. Gathered in the great hall, Prince Maekar dressed in the red 0a1nd black of his house, Beron in Stark Grey and Edric in Grey and brown. The colours 0of the Company of the Rose.

Prince Maekar spoke first. “We are gathered here today to resolve a conflict that should never have happened in the first instance. A conflict that has gone on for far longer than it really should have. There are two branches of House Stark fighting for control over land that only one of them can have. Today we shall resolve those differences and at the end of this, reach a solution beneficial to all.” It was a clear speech, the Targaryens needed a Stark in the north, and it was Beron’s job to show why it was his. “Beron Stark shall as the current Lord of Winterfell put forward his case first.”

Beron stood, his head hurt, his leg hurt, his body screamed, but he felt Lorra’s hand in his and he squeezed it then he let go. “My name is Beron Stark,” he said to the room at large. “I am the son of Brandon Stark and Alys Karstark. I am the Lord of Winterfell. I was not raised to rule Winterfell, that was my brother Rodwell. But whilst he was away in King’s Landing, serving on King Daeron’s small council, I ruled as regent in his place. I ensured taxation was kept at a reasonable level, and that the people were fed and clothed. As Lord of Winterfell, I helped throw out the Ironborn and ensured that they would not have the strength to return in great numbers. I have also ensured that throughout the winter and the war, that there has been food and shelter provided for those who need it.” he took a deep breath, the injustice of having to do this in the first place was not lost on him. “I believe that I am the right Lord of Winterfell. I know the north, I know her people. I will fight for the north, always.”

There was some murmuring at this, and Beron wondered if he had perhaps gone too far on this point, but then Lorra smiled at him and he felt his nerves subside somewhat. Edric got up then and spoke. “My name is Edric Stark, I am the son of Cregan Stark and Lynara Stark. I was the heir to my brother Jonnel, and my wife Serena is the oldest daughter of my older brother Rickon. We were denied Winterfell by a decision made by a King who had previously supported us, due to Jonnel’s wavering support for him. By all the rights of the Gods and Men, Winterfell is mine. I do not wish to fight and kill more decent northmen, but I will do whatever it takes to take what is mine.”

There was some more murmuring there, Prince Maekar got up and said. “The words have been spoken, the claimants have made their case, now if there is anyone of the northern lords who wishes to discuss who they are supporting and why, then now is the time for them to do so.”

This was a new process, something Beron was not used to, he remembered that when Edric had been exiled, the King had simply sent a lieutenant to announce uncle Barthogan as the new Lord of Winterfell. There was silence for a long time as it seemed no one was quite comfortable speaking about what they were there for. Then Lord Umber stood up. Osric Umber who was married to Edric’s daughter, who Beron had thought was a friend. “I think that Edric Stark should inherit Winterfell. The man has the best claim, and his wife is the daughter of Rickon Stark, the man who embodied the north.” There was a pause then Umber spoke again. “That man there,” he pointed at Beron. “Is less of a Northman than anyone here. His children are half southern also, they might not stick to what we believe is to be truly northern.”

Beron had wondered when someone would bring that up. He had heard the murmurs during the campaign, that there were soldiers who did not think him northern enough. That his wife had turned him into some sort of southerner, that he would bring about the Faith of the Seven. Things that were complete nonsense which had bled through.  That it had come from Osric, a man he had considered a friend once, hurt. Another figure got up, this one was the old and bent Lord Flint of the mountains. “Beron Stark is our lord. he swore an oath before the gods, and I hold that to be true, more than some upjumped rebel.” The man sat back down again though the Flints banged their sticks.

There was a pause, the hall settled down. Prince Maekar stood up once more. “Now, I wish to see a vote cast. Whoever shall emerge with greatest number of votes shall sit as Lord of Winterfell.”  Prince Maekar took a breath. “The two claimants cannot vote.” Another pause, then. “All those in favour of Beron Stark.” Reed, Glover, Ryswell, Dustin, Flint of the Mountains, Mormont, Wull, Cerwyn, Cassel, Bole, Condon, Boggs, Burley, Flint of Flint’s Finger, Harclay, Marsh and a dozen smaller houses raised their hands.

“All those in favour of Edric Stark.” Umber, Hornwood, Bolton, Karstark, Long, Locke, Wells, Whitehill, Slate, Waterman, Greenwood, Woolfield, Norrey, Overton, Flint of Widow’s Watch, Mollen, Liddle, Lightfoot and one small house raised their hands.

“Beron Stark has gained the most votes. And therefore, the crown recognises Beron Stark as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.” Prince Maekar said, there was a lot of cheering from those who had supported Beron. He got up and took a knee before Prince Maekar. “Do you swear before the old gods and the new to uphold the King’s Law?”

“I do.” Beron replied. His knee hurting like hell.

“Then rise, Lord of Winterfell.” Prince Maekar said, Beron rose as he was bid and the Prince embraced him.


	52. Maekar VII

** Chapter 52: Maekar VII **

****

Even though it was the height of summer, Winterfell was damnably cold. Considering how close to the wall they were, that did not surprise him. If he were being truthful, Maekar was looking forward to leaving this barren Iceland and returning to his home in Summerhall. He had gotten Beron Stark confirmed as Lord of Winterfell, and had he hoped sorted out the fighting that the two branches of House Stark had been doing. Now all that was left was discussing just what would become of Edric Stark’s branch of the family. Maekar had mulled over this for some time on the journey to Winterfell- he had never doubted that Beron would be chosen- and he thought he had reached a solution.

Both men were sat before him, Beron wearing Stark Grey, and Edric wearing grey and gold. Maekar wore the red and black of his family. “It has been decided that Beron shall sit as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. The lords of the north have decided this, and the crown has accepted it. Now all that remains is for us to decide, or rather for you to decide what is to become of you, Edric Stark.” Maekar had never met Edric Stark, he’d met the man’s brother once though. Jonnel one eye had been a fighter and a good man. “What do you wish to do?”

There was a moment of silence, then Edric said. “The north is my home, it has always been my home. I fought for what I believed was right all those years ago, and it pains me knowing Jonnel died because of that. I know it pains my wife knowing that Sansa died as well.” Sansa Stark, Edric’s niece and sister by marriage. “I have hoped that we might reconcile, and of course reintegrate into the north.” There was a pause. “I do not apologise for fighting for what I believed was mine, but I am willing to move on.”

Maekar nodded. “That seems reasonable enough, there are some concerns of course. The Company of the Rose for one. They are men and women who grew up in Essos, away from the settings of the north, they do not know Westeros and have never known anything but war, how can you be sure that they will not cause trouble?”

Beron spoke as well. “I do not want for some marauders running wild through the streets of the north, uncle, I tell you that now. I will have anyone who disturbs the peace killed.”

Edric Stark sighed. “I have spoken with the people of the Company. Some of them have asked that they be allowed to return to Essos, half of them even, they believe that they will get more from continuing as Sellswords than remaining in the north. With your permission, I would let them leave.” Beron nodded. “The rest are willing to settle down and continue the life of a farmer or a deckhand that their ancestors pursued.”

“Would you be against that, Lord Beron?” Maekar asked. He suspected that those who were willing to stay were the more peaceable types, the women, the children and the old. The men would never want to stay.

“I am. They will settle with their houses, and go from there.” Beron said simply.

Maekar nodded. “There is one final issue that I feel must be discussed, and that is the tension between your two families.” Maekar knew that this would be the crucial issue, the one that settled the disputes raging around them. “I have a proposal here. I believe that in order to ensure that no future conflict over the succession can arise, that your son Donnor, Beron, and your daughter Aregelle, Edric marry to unify the two lines.” There was a brief pause, then Maekar continued. “As to your sons Edric, I believe that they can either swear fealty, and be given the lands that Beron has offered to you, or they can take the black, or if they wish they can become a member of my household.” He had made that offer for he knew that Torrhen Stark, Edric’s son was a fighter, and perhaps the boy might do some good for Daeron.

Nothing was said for the longest time then Edric said. “I have no problems with Aregelle marrying Donnor, as long as she is treated well and fairly.”

Beron replied. “Nor do I, my son was betrothed to a daughter of Lord Glover’s but that daughter has since died. I shall ensure that he is compensated.”

“Then it is sorted.” Maekar said, pleased with how things had gone. “Now, if you might excuse me, I have somethings that I need to attend to.” Maekar rose and the two men did also, he nodded to them and walked out of the room, his guards following. They stopped when he found his son. Aegon’s hair had started growing again, and he looked slightly more muscular. The boy bowed before him.

“Your Royal Highness.” He said.

“Come with me.” Maekar commanded, together they walked to another room, stopping when the door was closed. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine, Father, truly. Everything’s good.” Aegon replied, Maekar had been very impressed by his son, sending that letter and by his conduct during the fighting. He had spoken with Ser Duncan about that, and the knight had said that the lad had held himself like a true knight.

“Tell me, where will you and Ser Duncan go from here? Maekar asked. A part of him hoped his son would return home, but he doubted it. There was too much of the wanderer in his son, much like Dyanna.

“I think we might visit the Westerlands, there seem to be some interesting things happening there. And we might go to the Riverlands again.” Aegon replied. “Ser Duncan said that he has a friend in Raventree Hall who might need our assistance.”

“I see.” Maekar replied, he did not, he worried that Aegon in the Westerlands might spark more trouble, there were rumours that Dagon Greyjoy was attempting something more. That Gerold Lannister was facing trouble from his bannermen over the death of his niece. “Be safe.” Was all he said, he could say no more. He knew if he did, his son would revolt at the idea.

“I will be.” His son replied smiling, looking so much like Dyanna in that instance, Maekar’s heart ached.


	53. Bloodraven V

** Chapter 53: Bloodraven V **

****

The throne room was packed, everyone at court had learned that Prince Aerion had returned with a special guest from his travels. Aegor Rivers, otherwise known as Bittersteel, the leader of the Golden Company and the Blackfyre resistance. Aerion had brought the man in chains and thrown him at the foot of the throne, and now, with court in attendance, Brynden looked at his half brother, the man responsible for so much death and suffering and he felt nothing but contempt for the man. Aegor’s hair was dark, and greying, his beard was already grey, his body was bruised, and his jaw was cut.

Brynden looked at him and said. “Aegor Rivers, you have been brought here today to face judgement for crimes against the throne. You started the rebellion that saw Daemon Blackfyre and his sons Aegon and Aemon die. You encouraged a war between Westeros and her allies and you have fed on lies and anger to encourage individuals within the realm to rebel against their sovereign. By all accounts you are guilty of high treason.” He paused, he knew that everyone expected him to pronounce a sentence of death, but doing so would simply embolden the Blackfyres. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Aegor looked tired, his body seemed to be fighting itself. His words were slow, and not as aggressive as Brynden had thought they might be. “I do not believe I have committed any sort of treason. I rose for His Majesty, King Daemon because he was the rightful King. We had the documents to prove it, a sworn will and testimony from His Majesty King Aegon and from Her Majesty Queen Naerys that the bastard Daeron Waters was not a trueborn child of their union.” There were murmurs, there was no such document. “Daemon was the rightful King, had he not been betrayed by your lies, he would be sitting there in that throne today. His son Daemon, who you keep locked up in a cell is the rightful King. You are nothing but a traitor.” There was even more murmuring at that. “You were given the chance by Daemon to sit and be his master of whispers. He wanted you there, but you allowed the poison of the bastard to turn you. You are nothing but a traitor.”

Brynden sat in silence for a time, it was true, Daemon had come to him, long before he had actually fled and his spies had told him the truth. Daemon had wanted him on his side, and though Brynden had always loved Daemon, he could not, and would not betray Daeron, the only father he had ever known. “You do not deny then that you have committed treason, not only against His Majesty, King Aerys, or His Majesty, King Daeron, but also against the people of Westeros. Who you swore to protect when you became a knight.” Bittersteel had fallen into that, and by the way the man shifted, he knew it as well. He took his knightly vows very seriously.

“I accept I broke a vow made to a false King. As would any good and decent man.” Aegor replied, the man turned and looked around the room. “You are all cowards and cravens, you do nothing but lick the boot of the man above you. You have no passion and no loyalty. I am ashamed to say you are Westerosi.”

That caused a stir, one man who Brynden knew to be Ser Tymond Vance advanced forward, but stopped when the gold cloaks moved between him and Aegor. Brynden laughed. “This is how you wish to play this then? With bitter words and even more bitter actions?” Brynden asked, adding a hint of mocking to his voice. “Very well then. Under the order of His Majesty King Aerys Targaryen, I sentence you to a lifetime of service in the Black Cells pending further trial and sentencing. Take him away.” The guards lifted the man off and carried him away, Brynden got up and walked down the steps. He noticed Prince Aerion standing there, wearing black and gold, and looking very much like a King. “Your Royal Highness.” Brynden said acknowledging the young man. Aerion seemed stronger and more confident in himself compared to six years ago.

“Ser Brynden.” The Prince said nodding. “Walk with me.” Brynden did as he was asked, technically as hand he was senior in the order of preference at court, but Aerion had never been one to accept rejection gracefully, at least in the past. They walked out of the throne room, down a hallway and through a set of open doors. “Why did you not sentence him to death? Surely that would be the best way to stymie the Blackfyres? They rely on him and the presence he brings. Remove him you leave a hapless young man, or young men with no presence in Westeros of their own.”

“Executing him would make him a martyr. It would give his supporters and those of the Blackfyres another thing to rally behind. Just as  Daemon Blackfyre remains locked in a cell here, so too will Aegor Rivers. They shall not be able to rally any support from a cell.” Brynden replied.

“Do you really think that will stop him?” Aerion asked. “He kept fighting and managed to get the Dothraki to change sides during the War of the Golden Fields. He might convince the guards to let him free.”

“The guards are men I have chosen and whose loyalty I am assured of, they will not betray the throne nor will they betray me.” Brynden replied.

Prince Aerion did not seem wholly convinced, but he let the matter drop. “Where is my father, I did not see him at court today, I would have thought given his anger at Bittersteel he would be here to see the man sentenced?”

“Your father is at Winterfell, ensuring that there is peace between the warring factions of House Stark.” Brynden responded. He still did not know whether Maekar was trying to do that to ensure he had a supporter for a bid for Hand or not. His spies did not always work in Winterfell.

The Prince snorted. “I am sure he is enjoying the cold.”

“It was his idea.” Brynden responded, the man looked shocked, but said nothing as they parted ways, Brynden for his chambers, and the Prince for who knew where.

 


	54. Aelora I

** Chapter 54: Aelora I **

****

There were times when Aelora wondered whether she too had been cursed with the same madness that affected her father. Her father was the kindest person she knew, but there were times when he acted like a child, and other times where he was the smartest person in the room. At all times though, Mother was at his side making sure he was well fed and calm. Aelora respected her mother deeply, it could not be easy for her, having to handle father and three children, though both she and Aelor were adults now. Indeed, that was one of the reasons she and her brother were walking with their mother. Everyone knew that the King would not have children, he refused to marry, and with Aegor Rivers and Daemon Blackfyre both in chains beneath the Red Keep, it was becoming important that she and Aelor marry, and mother was determined to prevent them marrying one another.

“I believe that a marriage with either a Tyrell or a Tully would do quite nicely, or perhaps a Stark. Lord Beron has two daughters.” Mother said to Aelor.

“I won’t marry a Stark, they are savages and besides they are waging a civil war on themselves. Who knows what will happen.” Aelor replied. Her brother was always the confident one, always so sure, with the right words to say. “I think a Tyrell would add the most benefit, Lord Matthos’ daughter is the right age and she is said to be quite the beauty.”

“Hmm,” Mother replied with a look on her face that suggested something dark, something Aelora would undoubtedly not like. “Tyrell has his allies at court this is true, though his own absence is not something that we can take lightly. Maekar will want to push forward his own agenda when he returns from the north. If he succeeds there then the King will most definitely be more considerate toward him.” Aelora wanted to say something then but she kept her voice down. Mother did not like Uncle Maekar for reasons she was not quite sure of, she was not even sure if Mother knew them herself.

“Tyrell can be induced to come to court. If his daughter is to be married to the second in line to the throne, he most definitely will come and try his hand at the game. I’ve heard he’s got the Reach completely tied up and with Lord Osgrey as his right hand man, that would bring the Lannisters to our side.” Aelor replied.

Here was where Aelora had to speak. “Lord Lannister has helped deal with the Ironborn, he recognised father as King Aerys’ heir, why would he consider anything else other than serving the crown loyally?” There were rumours about Lord Gerold Lannister, that was true, rumours that he’d killed his brother and niece to take the Rock, rumours that he and his wife had killed Lord Eustace Osgrey in an attempt to be together. She was not sure what to believe.

“Gerold Lannister is a Lannister, that is all that needs to be said. He will pledge allegiance and do something completely different. During the Blackfyre rebellion his father very nearly converted to Daemon Blackfyre’s cause. The only thing that stopped him was the presence of Lord Reyne and Lord Tarbeck. Both men who had sworn allegiance to King Daeron long before the war started. As to Gerold himself, well you know the rumours about him, I would not trust much of what he says unless it is carried on a sword or on his son’s tongue.” That was a jibe at Gerold’s sons Tion and Tywald, both of whom spoke at the same time mixing their sentences together to make it seem as though they were one and the same. Mother sighed and then said. “As for you, I do not think that Shiera’s suggestion of your marriage to that idiot Daeron would do any good. You are the daughter of the future King and must be married accordingly. Who would you wish to marry?”

That she was being given a choice in the matter at all surprised her, she had thought Mother would simply tell her and that would be that. As she thought on it, she saw her cousin, Prince Aerion striding through the hallway, dressed in silver and purple, his hair was loose and long, he smiled at her and she felt her heart quicken, she blushed then looked away. Neither Mother nor Aelor had noticed. “I am not sure, maybe to a Stark or to cousin Jasper.” Jasper was their age, tall, handsome with blond hair, and he was smart.

“Jasper would be a good marriage, and I know that Artys is agreeable to such a marriage. Very well, we shall discuss these marriages with the King and his hand and from there we shall progress. Aelor, come with me there are some things I wish to discuss with you.” Mother said walking off arm in arm with Aelor, leaving Aelora alone to wander about. There was a knight of the Kingsguard stationed nearby, Ser Roland, she thought his name was, she nodded to him, but he did not respond. She kept walking lost in her thoughts, until a voice called out.

“Aelora! Aelora, wait a moment.” She turned and found Prince Aerion standing there, his skin slightly flushed.

Aelora inclined her head. “Aerion.” She felt a slight flush creeping over her, combined with a worry. Aerion had always been mad, stark raving mad, but here he appeared calm, different, maybe even mature.

“I…I just wanted to ask if you’d attend the Prince’s ball with me?” Aerion asked sounding flustered.

“The Prince’s Ball?” Aelora asked confused.

“Yes, it’s being held in a fortnight’s time, to celebrate my father’s return from the north. Would you do me the honour of being my partner?” Aerion asked again.

That was when it clicked, she’d heard about this, Mother had mentioned it a while ago, but she’d not thought much on it. she didn’t much like balls, and yet. “Yes, I would love to.”

Aerion smiled, and her heart quickened, he kissed her hand. “Excellent.” With that he turned and walked away.

 


	55. Shiera IV

** Chapter 55: Shiera IV **

****

Things had become increasingly interesting as time had progressed, Shiera could acknowledge that. Her children with Brynden were growing, Aerys was now talking and asking all sorts of questions, whilst Melissa remained quiet, but always observed, Shiera knew her daughter would have her gifts and that she would be a powerful sorceress in the time to come, she had seen it in the flames. Right now though her children were asleep, and her focus was on other matters.

“Do you think that Aegor will have his men try to come and rescue him?” She asked, she had not yet visited their half brother, knowing that when she did she would need to be completely prepared. The man would throw every insult he could at her.

Brynden who had visited him once, sighed. “I think he will try and he knows that they will fail. He will hope that I will have them killed so that he can use that as an example of how corrupt I am.” Her husband’s face was lined, he had not been sleeping very well.

“And, has he tried so far?” Shiera asked, her husband had appeared distracted by Maekar’s success in the north, the compromise he had managed to get had thrown her husband off, she knew that, she also knew that he had installed more spies in the north and equipped them with the root from the Isle of Faces.

“He hasn’t. I spoke with Merryweather and with Velaryon, neither of them have been approached, though they assure me that they are doing everything they can to root out the traitors from amidst their men and friends.” Brynden replied. Velaryon and Merryweather had been the two people that her husband had been convinced would turn should the right opportunity presented it, therefore he had gotten to them before others could.

“I saw something in the flames, earlier today.” Shiera said., her husband did not quite approve of her dabbling with the red god, but it helped sometimes, and she knew what Melissa’s fate would be. She needed to know her daughter was protected.

“What did you see?” her husband asked.

Shiera took a moment to compose herself, then she said. “I saw a great battle, flames and the use of wildfire, it grew hotter and hotter as time went by and then as things were reaching their natural conclusion, something else happened. A darkness came and a figure of ice came forth, the figure spoke no words, but its actions caused death and destruction wherever it looked. To the point that there was nothing left, and when the figure had stopped, it bent down and cried.”

Brynden put a hand on her cheek. “We both knew that this would happen one day. We have prepared for it our entire lives. It is nothing to be afraid of.”

Shiera looked at him and asked. “Do you think it will be as bad as my dream suggests?” She hoped not, in the dream, no one survived, and everyone was left broken and dead, their corpses were carrion for the crows. That was not a future she wanted. Not one at all.

Brynden pulled her to him and whispered. “I know that it will be less than that, the dreams have never quite been accurate before. There has been one more thing that has convinced me of that.”

“And what is that?” Shiera asked, her heart was hammering she hoped things were going to be okay, if they weren’t then she knew not what she would do.

“Haegon managed to take the Golden Fields.” Brynden said calmly, even as Shiera felt her heart thump.

“How is that a good thing?” Shiera asked, the Golden Fields were rich in minerals, which could be mined for all sorts of goods that would produce wealth for whoever owned them, that the Golden Company had them terrified her.

“It means that now he’s going to be fighting off Braavos, Myr, Tyrosh and Lys, which will keep the Golden Company occupied for the foreseeable future. Aegor did not want to own the fields, he simply wanted to control who got them. Now that the company has them, they will have to defend them. and that means they will be fighting an unwinnable war.” Brynden said.

Shiera thought about that and then said. “Consequently, the Blackfyres will either die out during the fighting to keep the fields, or they will bankrupt themselves trying to hold it, meaning they cannot look at Westeros whatsoever, preventing that vision from coming true.” She felt slightly more relieved, but there was still a nagging feeling there.

Brynden kissed her forehead. “There’s little more we can do about that situation now, there is little point worrying about it. Maekar has sorted out the north, Aegor rots in a cell here, the Blackfyres are for all intents and purposes finished, and if they do not kill themselves, I shall ensure they die.”

Shiera nodded. Then she asked. “Do you think Aerion has changed? I have looked into the flames and found nothing about him. And I have looked at him and I see the way he and Aelora are around one another, and I wonder.”

Aerion had always concerned her, the flames had told her long ago that the Prince would bring pain and misery to Westeros, but now, now they were empty. Brynden sighed. “I’d like to think he’s changed, the King thinks he has, but I am not sure. He could be acting for all we know. The presence of the Company of the Cat makes things more difficult.”

“Will you do as he suggested and make them the crown’s standing army?” Shiera asked.

Her husband sighed. “I do not know. They are loyal to Aerion, which might cause trouble later on, when Aerys is gone. Rhaegel is not the most stable of people, and Alys does not like Aerion, especially his courting of her daughter.”

“I think that the company could serve a useful purpose. Especially if Aerion can be convinced into swearing an oath of obedience.” Shiera said.

Her husband nodded. “I agree. It’s simply a case of convincing Alys that that is the case.”


	56. Aerion XII

** Chapter 56: Aerion XII **

****

It felt good to be back in King’s Landing, away from the hub and the bustle of the Company for a little while. His men were stationed in the barracks further down the city, within walking distance. Yet now he was home and able to truly enjoy the things he had denied himself during his time out of Westeros. His grandsire was gone, six years dead, as  was his grandmother, he was sorry he could not have attended their funeral, but there was nothing more he could do for that. His father was sat opposite him, Aerion noted the pronounced silver and grey within his father’s hair and beard, and knew that his father was getting on in years.

His father spoke. “You have been gone for six years, you did not write, and you did not bother informing anyone that you were coming back, let alone that you were returning with someone such as Bittersteel.” Aerion bit back a snort, that was just like his father, never one to talk about the good things or ask how he was. “How have you found your exile?” that surprised him, had his father taken a mistress?

Aerion took some time to consider his response, he wanted to phrase everything properly and not say something that could get him in his father’s bad books. “Things have been good, Lys was alright for the first few days. I’ve found more fun fighting, I’ve truly found my calling there. As I am sure Bloodraven has told you, the company named me their Commander General after Balerion died.” He paused not knowing what else to say.

His father nodded. “And with regards to the Company, is that something you wish to continue doing indefinitely?” there was something in his father’s voice, some hint of a plea? That couldn’t be right, Prince Maekar did not make pleas, he made demands. His father continued. “Do you wish for the Company of the Cat to remain here, or will you return to Essos and take out contracts there?”

Aerion was trying to figure out how to respond to that, when his father changed the topic. “That does not matter, we can address that situation later on. For now, though there is another matter I wished to discuss.” His father paused and then continued. “The last time  you were here you did a great many things that insulted a great many people. Since your return you have behaved, but I know you Aerion I know what you are like and I know that you can act. Therefore, I am telling you now, if you are acting, stop. I do not want to be shamed again.”

Aerion felt slightly insulted, yet he knew deep down that his father was right. He had been an idiot, and a moron, hell he was not quite sure what it was that had driven him to do those things that he had done before his exile. He took a breath and said. “Father, if I thought that apologising would change your thoughts on me then I would apologise a hundred thousand times. My behaviour before my exile was foolish and idiotic and shameful to the House. I have had time to think whilst on exile, and I have decided that I wish to be different. I have gone out of my way to act differently, to think differently.” He saw the look on his father’s face and continued. “I know that you perhaps don’t believe me, and I understand that. All I ask is that you allow me to show you that I have changed.”

His father nodded. “Very well, I can accept that.” His father nodded again then turned and walked out, leaving Aerion alone to collect his thoughts. They were a mess. He clutched the bag that his mother had given him before she had died. He had kept it here, in these rooms, knowing that one day he would need them again.

Aerion blinked and then moved out of the room and walked down the hallway, nodding to the Kingsguard knight on the door, the man announced him and then opened the door. Aerion bowed before Aelora and then straightened. “Are you ready for our walk, my lady?” there was something about Aelora, something about the way she held herself that was appealing to Aerion she might appear like a delicate wallflower, but she was made of steel.

“I was wondering if you would prefer staying in the room and having some tea with me?” Aelora asked.

Aerion was surprised by this but nodded. “I would like nothing more.”

Aelora took a seat and gestured for him to do the same, then when they were both seated she asked. “How have you found King’s Landing so far?”

“It has remained both the same and has changed over the years, if that makes sense?” Aerion replied. “Like, I know that by taking the streets of third and fourth I will get to the Forge of Fire, but that taking the third and fifth used to get me to Danger Market, but now there is nothing but book shops there.”

Aelora laughed, a laugh that made the hair on the back of his arm stand up. “Oh, I know, that was the King’s idea. He wanted Danger Market cleared for good and replaced by things he considered wholesome. The crown had to buy all the shops there after the book sellers threatened to leave if nobody came and did custom there.”

Aerion felt his eyes widen. “Really? I thought books were all the rage?” They had been during his grandsire’s reign.

“I think after grandsire, the people of King’s Landing decided they want something different, and then King Aerys came and things got worse, not better.” Aelora replied.

Aerion hummed. “And do you think things have changed since then?” The initial days he meant, and Aelora as always knew what he meant.

“I think things are gradually changing. People are learning to smile again.” Aelora said. She smiled at him and Aerion smiled in return, a genuine smile.

 


	57. Haegon I

** Chapter 57: Haegon I **

****

Life in the Golden Fields was a massive improvement on life in Tyrosh, or Lys or wherever else they had stayed after father had died. Whether that was because they no longer had the constant concerns over where they were going to get their money from, or food from, or whether it was because Aegor was no longer breathing down his neck, Haegon did not know, nor did he particularly care. He was just happy that things were finally at some sort of normalcy. It had been his brain and might that had won them the Golden Fields, and his brain that had ensured that they had kept it when Volantis, Tyrosh, Lys and Myr had all tried to get it. He had slaughtered the Faceless Men Braavos had sent as well. Aegor would’ve been proud had the idiot not got himself captured. Of course, the presence of Calla suggested otherwise. After all, Calla never said anything that her husband had not told her to say.

Haegon looked at the frown on his sister’s lips and bit back an angry retort. Instead, he simply asked. “What is it now?” His sister had been married to Aegor from the time she was ten, she had grown up under him and it seemed the man actually did care for her in some form or another. And Calla was fiercely protective of the man and his interests. Sometimes, Haegon had wondered if she cared more for him than she did her own flesh and blood. Her son, Daemon was his squire.

“I just think that staying here for longer than another six moons is too much. How much longer do you think you can keep the Braavosi and the Lyseni off your tail? We already know that Lys has hired the Second Sons and the Unsullied as well, soon they will be sending men to hunt us down.” Calla said.

Haegon looked at his sister and fought back a scowl. His sister had been doing this for almost a moon now, ever since they’d received a missive from Norvos telling them that the Iron Bank was putting pressure on the magisters to withdraw from their trade agreement or face sanctions. “I will not flee here, not when we continue to make more money than we ever did as sellswords in the company. The men will need to know how to handle money and how to be in one place for longer than a few moons, when we return to Westeros. This is giving them good practice for that.” He knew that would cut deep, they had argued some time ago about Aegor and his apparent lack of sense when it came to actually teaching the members of the company about ruling. Haegon had learned more watching his uncle rule as Archon of Tyrosh than he had from Aegor.

“And what will you do when the Braavosi implement sanctions? Norvos has already said they are considering withdrawing from the agreement, Qohor has already said they are withdrawing. Tyrosh remains because of Mother, and Myr remains because Lys is in opposition. If Volantis comes for you, for us, what then?” Calla asked.

Haegon snorted. “The Triarchs remember what happened to their fire priests, as do the Asshai. They will not attack us, it is not within their interest to do anything of the sort. Besides, with Viserys betrothed to the leading Triarch’s daughter, things are sure to be fine between us and Volantis for the time being. As for Braavos, they will not consider implementing sanctions once we bring Lys firmly onside. Norvos continues to play the field because I have asked them to.” That was true he had told the magisters to play for time, they were already firmly in his camp, wishing for an end to Braavosi dominance of the north.

Calla then went for a tactic that he knew she would go for, that was how predictable she had become. “And what of Aegor and Daemon? You cannot stage a war in Westeros and use the funds gathered from the Golden Fields as long as they are in prison. The moment you do so, they will be executed.” There was a clear warning there, one that Haegon did not like. If he were being truthful, he did not care if Aegor died in a black cell, he disliked the man, but Daemon was his older brother, by rights the throne was his.

He brushed off the discontent he felt there, and instead smacked a smile onto his face. “That is relatively easy enough to answer. The simple solution is that the pretender and the Bloodraven have done more than enough to earn the discontent of many nobles. Our friends in the north are preparing for their own uprising, our friends in the Reach and the Riverlands and Stormlands continue to build up their resources. There will be those waiting and preparing, and those who sit on the fence now can be bought with the gold we have made.”

“And if there are those who cannot be bought? What then?” Calla demanded.

Haegon sighed. “Then we shall handle them when we come to them. We cannot act without first knowing what is happening.” His sister nodded, curtseyed then left. Leaving Haegon alone with his thoughts. There was a knock and the door opened, Mother entered, her hair down, the grey was starting to show, Haegon helped his Mother sit and then asked. “How can I help?”

His mother sighed. “Calla spoke with Baelon once more, she wants him to use his skills.” Baelon was very good at changing things, how he did it, no one knew but it was a very useful skill to have.

“What did he say?” Haegon asked.

“He refused, said that he could not do so, not without harming Daemon.” Mother replied.

“I’m sure Calla took that well.” Haegon replied sarcastically.

“Indeed, I am worried about her. She was bad when he was here, but now she is even worse. I do not know what will happen if he remains in chains for much longer.” Mother said.

Haegon took his mother’s hands and looked at her. “Don’t worry Mother, I’ve got a plan, and it’s about to start.” With the Prince’s Ball the world would remember the Blackfyres and what they were capable of.


	58. Aelora II

** Chapter 58: Aelora II **

****

The ball was alive with the sound of dancing and merriment. Aelora took a sip of wine and looked out around the throne room. She had come with Aerion, had laughed and talked with him for sometime before the meal had been served, then he had been summoned away on some business or the other. And so she had retired to the high table and sat and ate and observed people. Aelor was dancing with some girl from the Reach, no doubt hoping to get into her pants, Aegon who had returned from the Riverlands briefly was dancing with a girl called Betha, from House Blackwood, they were dancing far closer than was perhaps appropriate. Daella was dancing with her father, and Rhae was dancing with Lord Swann. Aelora smiled, then Mother sat down next to her and her smile died.

“Mother.” Aelora said acknowledging her Mother, who had been going on at her for some time over something or the other.

“Aelora. You are enjoying yourself?” Mother asked. Aelora looked for her father, to see whether he could come and save her from Mother, and Mother said. “Don’t bother, your father is talking with Bloodraven, he’s in one of his better moods.” Mother sounded oddly bitter about that.

“I am, is that not a good thing though, that Father is in one of his better moods? At least now we know that the solution that Lady Shiera made is working. That’s the third time he’s been in a good mood this moon alone, that is surely a sign he’s getting better.” Aelora said. Lady Shiera had used something or the other to create a potion that made Father sane more often and for longer, she had had an actual conversation with her father for the first time since she had been a little girl and she had cried afterwards.

“Of course it is a good thing, but it does mean that we owe that woman another thing. And that is not something I am willing to acknowledge. There are rumours about her, Aelora, rumours that could harm your father and your brother.” Mother said, and it was then that Aelora could smell the alcohol on her mother’s breath.

“But enough of that,” Mother said. “Tell me, how have things been going with Aerion? I hear you too have been spending a lot of time together?”

Aelora blushed. “I…. he is sweet, Mother. And kind. He’s not at all what I thought he would be.” She remembered vaguely how Aerion had been before his exile, arrogant, mad and something worse. “He has a lot of interesting things to say about his journey and his travels, and he listens to me when I talk as well.” Not like Aelor, who always spoke over her.

Mother took her hand. “That is good, very good. You know I think he would make a very good husband. I believe the King is considering giving him Oldstones, which is currently being rebuilt, or another castle within the Crownlands, with a lot of gold and silver mines present.”

“I…I don’t know about marriage Mother, I am only seventeen.” Aelora said.

As predicted though, Mother snapped. “I was already married when I was your age, married and pregnant with you and Aelor. You must marry sooner, rather than later. It is your duty.”

“What about Aelor?” Aelora asked. “He remains unmarried and he is the second in line to the throne.”

Mother didn’t say anything for the longest time, the music changed, and the people started dancing a quicker dance, by the time she did answer the song was changing again. “Aelor will be married before the year is out. Of that much I can assure you.” With that Mother got up and left, leaving Aelora to wonder what that meant. She looked for her brother but could not find him, and instead found herself rising as Aerion approached.

He was flushed. “Might I have this dance?”

She smiled. “It would be my pleasure.” Aelora took his hand and moved passed the table, and down the steps. As they walked to the floor she asked. “How have you found the dance?”

“Well enough, I spoke with Aegon, and managed to sort some things out. I think there is a lot to do there though, and of course with my father as well.” Aerion replied, he looked at her as they started dancing. “And what of you? How have things been with your mother?”

Aelora laughed. “About the same really, no progress, nothing. She thinks I’m still a child, and yet when she mentions marriage, I freeze. I don’t know why.” She saw something flit across Aerion’s face there for a moment, but it was gone before she could be sure she’d seen it.

Aerion nodded. “I can understand that. Father hasn’t mentioned marriage to me, I think he’s still trying to figure out whether he can trust me or not, but I’ve heard him talk about it with both Daella and Rhae. Rhae’s still half a child though, so I think he’ll be focusing on marrying Daella off somewhere soon.” They turned as the music got quicker. “But enough of that, tell me, how far have you gotten on the Mysteries of Neit?”

The Mysteries of Neit, a collection of stories about a man supposedly alive during the First Age before the coming of the First Men, were some of the most interesting stories she’d ever read, and also a rare book to find. Aerion had found it in an alleyway under a drunk man’s hand and taken it for two silver coins. She’d been reading it since he’d given it to her. “I’m about two thirds of the way through, there really is some interesting stuff within it. I think you’d like it.”

Aerion moved closer, and Aelora felt her breath catch. “Oh?” He whispered. “Do tell.”

Just as Aelora was about to respond, there was a great crash, which stopped the music, everyone turned around. Aelora gasped then, for her father was clutching his throat, gagging. Guards were moving to aid him, a maester was coming to help, but they got there too late. He fell to the floor, and something foamed from his mouth. Aelora ran toward him and bent down, she heard him whisper something as the foam came pouring out. It sounded slightly like. “Poison.” But she could not be sure. She gripped his hand and watched as his eyes dimmed.


	59. Maekar VIII

** Chapter 59: Maekar VIII **

****

 

Maekar ran a hand over his face, and fought back the grief. Rhaegel was dead, had keeled over during the feast held in his honour, and now things were only just starting to settle down. After that had happened, the hall had been emptied, and everyone searched. The body had been burned and his ashes interred next to Father, Mother and Baelor. Now it was simply a case of sorting out who had done it and what to do to them. Maekar, the King, Bloodraven, Rhaegel’s son Aelor, and Aerion, the senior most male members of the family were all present.

Maekar spoke. “I’ve looked into what Rhaegel did before and during the feast. Other than speaking with a few people and taking the potions that Shiera had given him to help with his dreams, he did not speak with anyone else or do anything else. He kept to his normal routine.” That had been both reassuring and unnerving at the same time.

“I looked through his things, and my men had a look through the Red Keep, there was nothing untoward found in either place. However, a further search of various apothecaries in King’s Landing found that there were lion’s tongue, silver and violet missing from three of them.” Bloodraven replied.

“Why would those ingredients in particular be missing?” Aelor asked, the boy looked half terrified and half angry, that was not what one wanted in the heir apparent, for that was what he was now.

“If someone was trying to poison someone, those ingredients in those quantities would be more than enough to create quite the convincing scene.” Bloodraven replied.

“So, he was poisoned then?” Maekar asked. The last he had heard, the Grand Maester had not been certain.

“Yes, though the Grand Maester seems certain that it was an accidental one.” Bloodraven replied.

“How could someone make an accidental poisoning? The poison was in Father’s cup, and it was all over his food. Someone was deliberately targeting him.” Aelor replied his anger showing in the flash of his eyes.

Bloodraven nodded. “I know, Your Royal Highness, which is why I have had my men watch the Grand Maester to see what else he does.”

Maekar looked at him and asked. “You think he is trying to betray the throne?”

Bloodraven fixed his one good eye on Maekar and replied. “I think that it would be worth ensuring that all bases are covered.”

The King had remained silent throughout all of this, his hands steeped together, his eyes were bloodshot, he had clearly not been sleeping. His voice was soft when he spoke. “Has anyone questioned Aegor?”

“He denied having anything to do with a poisoning.” Aelor said. When they all looked at him, the boy shrugged. “I needed to know whether the traitor in the cells was responsible for this.”

“You should not have done that. Now he will try using that as leverage.” Bloodraven snapped.

“Leverage? What leverage? You are not thinking of freeing him are you?” Aelor replied.

Before Bloodraven could reply, Aerion spoke, his son had been very quiet as of late, thoughtful, it was slightly unnerving. “Just because he denied having any involvement with it, does not mean that the Blackfyres couldn’t have done something. Haegon Blackfyre is perfectly capable of doing something such as this.”

“I think that might have been the case, had Haegon and the Blackfyres not been fighting a war against Braavos over the Golden Fields. Their spies within the realm have been arrested and executed.” Bloodraven replied. There was a hint of desperation in the man’s voice that Maekar had not heard before.

“That doesn’t mean that he couldn’t be trying something.” Aerion continued. “When we were out fighting in Essos, there were rumours of what Haegon was capable of. A lot of the strategies the Golden Company used politically were designed by him. He is the greater threat than Aegor Rivers ever could be.”

Maekar got the sense that Bloodraven was about to erupt there and then, to prevent that, he said. “Regardless, we must get to the root of this. Lord Celtigar was not present at the feast, and his household has tried to leave three times since then. I believe that we should ensure he does not leave at all.” Celtigar was an ambitious man, who was distantly related to them through Princess Rhaena Targaryen, daughter of Daemon Targaryen and his wife Laena Velaryon.

“Celtigar is dead.” Bloodraven replied simply.

“How?” Maekar demanded, how had he not come to know of this?

“He was caught communicating with a known Blackfyre sympathiser.” Bloodraven replied, then he looked at the King and said. “With the King’s permission I had him killed by stabbing two days ago. His brother has been confirmed as Lord of Claw Isle, but has lost three fourths of his wealth.”

“And you did not think to tell me?” Maekar demanded, his anger growing.

“It was a need to know issue, and you were more useful looking into this poisoning.” The King said, speaking before Bloodraven could speak. “You are the new Master of Laws, and we shall want you to prepare for the ceremony that will see Aelor officially created Prince of Dragonstone.”

Maekar stared at his brother for a moment, unsure whether or not to laugh or to growl in frustration. Instead, he merely nodded. “Very well.”

“Furthermore, we wish for you and our hand to work together to conclude this investigation, whoever is responsible must be brought to justice and the people of the realm must see that there will be punishment for the harming of a member of the blood royal.” Aerys said, sounding as authoritative as he ever had. The King stood, and so they all stood. “Therefore, with that in mind, we bid you farewell.” The King left the room, the Kingsguard following.

Once the King was gone, Maekar looked at Bloodraven and said. “We should start with the rest of the small council, and work from there.”

Bloodraven nodded, then looked at Aelor and said. “Your Royal Highness, you would be better suited to ensuring that your mother and Her Royal Highness, Princess Aelora are protected.” The boy nodded, and they all rose and left the room, Maekar wondering what else his brother was hiding.


	60. Aelor II

** Chapter 60: Aelor II **

****

Aelor admired himself in the mirror, seeing the red and black, seeing the lace and his hair and his freshly shaved face and smiled. He looked good, very good. All in preparation for what was to happen in a few hours time, when he would be sworn in as Prince of Dragonstone and confirmed as the heir to the throne. With how ill his uncle looked, it seemed as though he might be ascending the throne in shortly, rather than in a while. The doors opened and he nodded to his servants, watching as they walked away. He turned and nodded.

“Mother.” His mother was dressed in black, the colour of mourning for Father, though Aelor’s suspicions were what limited him from going to her now. “You look nice.” He said instead.

“As do you, my Prince.” Mother replied, she walked forward and adjusted his collar. “You know what you have to say and do today?”

Aelor nodded. “I do, I’ve run through the words and the ceremony at least three hundred times, Mother.” It had only been about two weeks since Father had died, but the King had insisted that the swearing in happen as soon as possible, to prevent rumours from sprouting.

Mother smiled. “Good, it is very good that you have been so thorough.” She paused, and Aelor wondered if she would finally broach the topic that they’d both been dancing around for some time.

When she didn’t, he decided to do it. “You know, there are rumours going around the court, Mother. Rumours about how Father died. Rumours that I think we need to deal with.”

“Rumours that I had your father poisoned, or asked my brother to do it?” Mother asked, sounding quite sarcastic. “Please, I loved your father, I always will. He was the kindest man I ever knew, and the only one who truly got me. I would never want him dead. And besides, I think he would have made a far more active King than Aerys ever has.”

Aelor raised an eyebrow at that, and said. “He was half mad for most of his life, Mother. I do not think he would have done much of anything.” He spoke clearly, and concisely not fearing punishment for his words, Prince Rhaegel had been his father, and he would speak how he wished.

Mother however, laughed. “That? Your father was far smarter than anyone ever gave him credit for. It was he who came up with the solution of how and what to do with the pretender.”

The situation where the pretender’s cell had given him an infection that had brought him close to death, he had been moved up a level, and given better sanitation, that did sound like something Father would’ve done. “Then why did he continue to act the way he did?”

Mother didn’t reply immediately, but when she did her voice was hushed. “Because it spared him having to interact overly much with that man and his wife.”

Aelor felt as if he’d been slapped. “You mean to tell me that this whole time we thought father was mad as a hatter, he was actually just acting, so that he could avoid dealing with the Hand of the King and his wife?”

Mother took his hand then. “I think that sometimes your father did suffer from the affliction, but most of the time he was coherent. He just remained quiet, as he did not like the man.” His mother said nothing else after that, and Aelor had to digest everything that had been said. He could not quite mesh what his mother had told him with the man he had known. His father had been half mad for as long as Aelor could remember, half mad, but always kind and caring. If there was more to him, then Aelor felt slightly cheated that he had not gotten to see it.

Eventually, Ser Lionel Cafferen, his chief gentleman came to tell him it was time. He nodded to the man and walked out of his rooms, down the hallway and out to the throne room, where the entire court was gathered. There were people likely waiting outside as well, the common folk. He nodded to those gathered, Prince Maekar, Prince Aerion, Prince Aegon, Aelora, Lady Shiera, Bloodraven and others. He then stopped before the throne and kneeled. The King was sat atop the throne, dressed in black and red, his crown atop his head. “Aelor Targaryen, you are the son of our brother Prince Rhaegel Targaryen, you are a grandson of King Daeron Targaryen, and a member of the dragon. You are a knight and a member of the Order of the Dragon. Do you swear before the gods and men to uphold the values of the throne, to protect the weak and innocent and to ensure justice for all?”

“I do.” Aelor replied and even though he’d practised this so many times before, he still felt nervous.

“Do you swear to uphold the values of truth, justice and honour? Do you swear to protect the country against any and all who would oppose it?” The King asked.

“I do.” Aelor replied.

The King rose from the throne, walked down the steps and then took the proffered crown, a slim golden band with one red ruby in it. He placed it on Aelor’s head and said. “Then, we, Aerys of the House Targaryen, First of our name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Defender of the Realm, do hereby declare you, Aelor Targaryen,  Prince of Dragonstone, and our heir.” The King helped him up and turned him so that he could face the court, they all cheered and then kneeled and swore obedience to him. He then followed the King out of the throne room, into the courtyard, where they mounted their horses, the Kingsguard following them. They rode out of the keep and down the hill, and then stopped when they got to Speaker’s Corner. Millions had gathered, Aelor felt some sweat drip down his brow, in the heat. They dismounted and the people kneeled.

“Long Live King Aerys, Long Live Prince Aelor!” The cry went out. “Long Live the Prince of Dragonstone!” Aelor held up a hand and the crowd roared. It was intoxicating.

 


	61. Aegon VI

** Chapter 61: Aegon VI **

****

Aegon rubbed his face, it was bloody hot in the capital, far hotter than it had been in the Riverlands, or in Raventree Hall for that matter. The thought of Raventree Hall made him smile. Betha was there, strong, stubborn, infuriating Betha, with her long black hair, and her smile, and her strong words. Aegon knew that perhaps he was infatuated with her, the way Dunk had been infatuated with that girl, Tanselle. He wanted to get to know her better, and perhaps he could convince Dunk to let them go back to the Riverlands once things here had calmed down. Right now though, he had an engagement with his brother, Aerion to handle.

Aerion stood before him, dressed in black and red, with a slight golden hue, he looked like a true Prince and not at all mad, Aegon was suspicious. “Aegon,” his brother began. “You look well. How have your travels been? What have you been doing since we last met?” The last time they’d met Aerion had had Dunk nearly killed for some imagined insult.

“I’ve been travelling around Westeros with Ser Duncan, we visited the Reach, the Riverlands, and the North. We were just in the Riverlands. It’s been a lot of fun. And you?” Aegon replied. He had heard some of what his brother had done, and he wasn’t sure whether to believe it or not. Then again he barely believed the things he himself had done.

“I was in Lys for a time, getting used to a life in exile. Venturing forward through the intrigues and the delights that that fair city has to offer. Then I joined the Second Sons and fought in a war in the Disputed Lands and then again against Myr and Tyrosh elsewhere. I exchanged blows with Aegor Rivers, and almost best him. I then trained the Second Sons unit I was in charge of, before leaving when I learned we had been betrayed. I joined the Company of the Cat, under the auspices of our great uncle Balerion, and fought alongside him in the war for Golden Fields, before he was slain and I was named Commander General. We fought the war again until Aegor was captured. And then I returned home. And here is where I have been.” Aerion said.

It sounded impressive, something that made Aegon feel jealous but also suspicious. “I helped defeat Edric Stark and brought peace to the north.” Aegon said, wondering why he was acting like some sort of ingrate, trying to start a pissing contest with his older brother. “I fought in the war between Webber and Osgrey and helped bring about their marriage. And I fought in the war that saw that great heathen sparrow fellow fall.”

“So, we have both done a lot since that fateful day six years ago.” Aerion replied, Aegon tensed then, wondering where his brother was going with this. There was a brief silence, then Aerion continued. “Aegon, I wanted to apologise. The things I did to you before, they are some of the most horrendous things I have done, and I am not proud of them. I know that madness is not an excuse, but truly, I know now that those things were not right, and I hope that you can find it within yourself to forgive me, if not now then eventually.”

Aegon heard the words and wondered if there was some sort of trap within them, Aerion never apologised, he would not start now surely? Not after everything he had just said he had achieved. “I have one question.” He said instead.

“Voice it.” Aerion replied.

“Why did you do the things you did? The putting a knife to my privates, and threatening to make me a eunuch, why did you throw my pets down wells and skin them? Why did you nearly get Ser Duncan killed for something that was imagined?” Aegon demanded. Six years’ worth of unanswered questions boiling forward.

Aerion did something that Aegon had not expected, he sighed. There was no angry remonstrance, simply a sigh. “I have thought long and hard about this during my exile, and the only conclusion I can come up with was that I was mad, and jealous.”

“Jealous?” Aegon exclaimed. “Jealous of what?”

“Of you. You were the fourth son, the son no one expected. You were doted on by both Father and Mother as a babe, you were the youngest and treated as such. I resented that you had more of a chance to explore what it meant to be a Prince than I did. It was foolish of me. And it made me do things I am not proud of.” Aerion replied.

Aegon looked at his brother and replied. “I want to believe you, but I do not know if I can.” That was the truth, his brother had been very good at hiding and acting, and Aegon did not want to be caught up in that again.

“I know, and I know I have no right to ask of anything from you. I will try to prove to you that I am a changed man, and that we can make our relationship work. I hope you will give me that chance.” Aerion said as he extended his hand.

Aegon thought for a moment and then extended his hand and shook his brother’s. “I look forward to seeing how you’ve changed, brother.”

“Thank you.” Aerion said, they broke apart, Aerion nodded then said. “Now, if you excuse me, I have a walk with a lovely lady waiting for me.” Aegon grinned and watched as his brother left. When he was gone, Ser Duncan appeared.

“What do you think?” Aegon asked.

His friend and sworn sword took a breath then replied. “I think he is being sincere, or at least as sincere as he can be.”

“Do you think I am right to give him a chance?” Aegon asked.

“I think he is your brother, and you would be foolish not to.” Ser Duncan replied.

Aegon nodded. “I agree. I just hope he proves me right.”

 


	62. Beron VII

** Chapter 62: Beron VII **

****

Summer was at its peak, the temperature varied between incredibly hot and wet. Beron was used to that, he had grown up within the north. What he was not used to was the other branch of his family, they had settled in a holdfast near Winterfell and they remained a constant reminder of the troubles that loomed in the distance. Edric Stark had remained placid for most of the time since the end of his rebellion, but his sons were causing some trouble with their boisterousness and their activities with former members of the Company of the Rose. Meanwhile, Donnor’s betrothed was a sweet girl who was very shy. Donnor seemed quite happy with her. Beron ran a hand over his face, where the scars from his fights stood, and he spoke.

“Tell me, Donnor, if you were to face across from a foe from the north, what would you look for?” Beron knew his son was young, but he was to be a man soon, and it was important that he know everything that a lord would need to know.

“I would look to see where his weaknesses appear and where he seems to lean. If we were in the field of battle, then I would assess where he places his men. For that would tell me what his state is, if he thinks he is going to win or not. If this were in the dispute chamber, then I would look to see how he holds himself.” Donnor replied confidently.

There was a hint of youthful arrogance about his son that made Beron smile, that was good, it mean his son had not lost the sense of humour and the joyfulness that had made him such a smart person before the war. “And if they were showing no signs of these traits? What would you look for then?” He was thinking of the Boltons as he said that. Lord Bolton had died and his son had taken the reins, the man showed no emotion whatsoever.

Here Donnor was silent for longer than perhaps he would have been otherwise. Eventually he said. “I would assess movement. A man can hide his face, but he cannot hide how he moves in response to a situation or to words. His expression is just one element of his person.”

That was good, clearly his son was learning. Before he would have answered with some sort of ridiculous answer. “And if you were to stand before the lords of the north to discuss the need to raise taxes with accordance of the King’s Ordinance, and they were questioning every single word you said, how would you respond?” This was particularly relevant given what the King or rather his hand had decreed three moons ago.

“I would respond with that no one likes higher taxation, but that it is our duty to ensure that the people have food in their bellies and money in their pockets. If we must pay a slightly higher price to ensure that, then that is a light burden to bear.” Donnor said.

Beron nodded, that was another good answer, but there was a difference between ideology and practicality and the men of the north were nothing if not practical. “Lord Mormont has written to me to say that he is struggling with making his due this moon, due to the increased need for security as the wildlings continue raiding. He wishes for an exemption from the new rate for this term. How would you respond?”

Here Donnor seemed to hesitate. “I would look to see if there was a way to make sure that Lord Mormont could pay the rate without exhorting too much from him.”

“You would not seek to remove the obligation from him to ease his burden? The Mormonts are a house that is proud, but poor.” Beron pointed out.

Donnor thought on this for a moment, Beron could see his mind working as if trying to decode some sort of message, then he replied. “No. I cannot as Lord of Winterfell allow one person to go free from their burdens. For there cannot be any favouritism.”

Beron nodded, impressed. “Rightly so, the north is a dangerous place, and one where favouritism is not looked upon kindly. This is not the south, we must treat everyone equally, even if their station within the ranks does not justify it. So long as a commoner is not being treated better than a Lord things will remain safe.”

“Is that even more true because of the situation with Edric Stark?” Donnor asked, Beron raised an eyebrow and his son continued. “I’m not blind, Father. I know that things are not exactly well with him. And I know that the situation with his supporters has barely simmered down. There are rumours that another war will happen.”

Beron sighed, he supposed it was inevitable really, that such rumours would come about. He took a moment to consider his thoughts and then replied. “Edric Stark is an old man whose day is done. It is his sons that one must be careful of, they are young and ambitious. They know that they have support within the north still, and they will not hesitate to use it. That is why one must ensure that the lords of the north feel they are all being treated the same. We cannot afford another war.”

“Surely if you know this, you should have them done?” Donnor replied.

“I cannot risk the peace in the North. We have worked to hard to achieve what we have now to throw it away. I do not think that this needs to be discussed further Donnor. You shall marry Aregelle and that will be that.” Beron replied.

“But father?!” Donnor protested.

“No buts, that is that. Now if you excuse me, I have other things to attend to.” Beron said with a note of finality to his tone that thankfully, Donnor got.

His son bowed and left. Beron rubbed his face and sighed. “What are we getting ourselves into?” He wondered, was he making the right decision, or not?

 


	63. Shiera V

** Chapter 63: Shiera V **

****

Shiera had only been down to the black cells once before. That had been to get information from a prisoner for Daeron long ago. Being here now though made her feel slightly nervous. The man she was going to see was far more dangerous than the man she had been to see all those years ago. He was witty, and funny, but also angry, and that made him incredibly dangerous. Shiera stopped before his cell, and the torch shone on Aegor Rivers, known as Bittersteel, his hair was damp with grease, and his eyes were scrunched up against the light. He snorted.

She took a breath. “Aegor.”

“Shiera.” Aegor replied, there was something there, something of the young boy he’d once been, the boy she had been friends with.

“How are you doing?” Shiera asked, despite her best efforts she could not hate this man. Despite all the pain and suffering he had brought and would still bring she could not hate him.  She still remembered him as he had been as a boy. Filled with hope and joy, before life had crushed it out of him.

Aegor moved slightly and held up his chains. “As well as can be expected, given the circumstances.” There was no bitterness there, not even rage. It sounded like acceptance, and that scared her.

“Why?” Shiera asked.

“Why what?” Aegor replied sounding bored.

“Why are you doing all of this? Daeron offered you lands and a wife, and income. You denied yourself that opportunity and have spent the past two decades on the run trying desperately to stay ahead of Brynden. Why? Why would you want that?” Shiera asked.

“It sounds almost as if you care.” Aegor replied taunting her. “I did not know you still cared, Shiera.”

“I do care!” Shiera replied, anger flaring, making her nostrils flair, then she took a breath. “You are my brother, no matter what else you have done, I care what happens to you. So, again I ask, why?”

Aegor sighed, the chains clanked as he moved. “Because Daemon and his children are the rightful rulers of Westeros.” Before Shiera could interrupt, he continued. “I found the documents that King Aegon had, the documents that Geldon his master of spies had noted down, Aemon the Dragonknight and Queen Naerys had spoken about what they had done the night before the wedding of the Queen and the King. All of it was written down. And then nine moons later Daeron appeared.”

“And where did you find this document?” Shiera asked. “And when did you find it?” Shiera knew their brother, Daeron would have looked for all and any information about his father’s plans, he was smart like that. Furthermore, Aegor and their father had never gotten along.

“It does not matter where I found it, you would not be able to find it now.” Aegor replied.

“Why?” Shiera demanded.

“Because I took it with me. It sits in Daemon’s old hideouts, where you will never find it.” Aegor responded. “Even with your skills.”

Shiera sighed. “So, you decided to fight to put Daemon on the throne, despite the knowledge that he would have made a terrible King and that he was not really the rightful heir to the throne. You decided to allow thousands of people die because of a piece of paper that might have been real, or might not have been.”

“Geldon’s words would not lie. It was his duty to report the truth.” Aegor replied.

“He was also the master of whispers when people survived based on what lies they told Father. You of all people should know that.” Shiera responded. Their father’s impatience had become famous toward the end of his reign. “You are doomed to fail you know.”

Aegor snorted. “Did you and your husband dream it then?”

“Even if we had, it would still be true. You are bleeding support.” Shiera responded. “Each day and month and year your people spend away from Westeros the less likely people are to follow you into battle. Already the Osgreys have turned to our side firmly and properly. Lord Gerold is helping raise Lord Osgrey’s sons, and the others in the Reach have reconciled themselves to the rule of the Targaryens. By the time you do launch another attack, it will be foreigners invading. And you know how the Westerosi feel about foreigners.”

Aegor snorted. “Funny, I’ve heard the exact opposite.” Her surprised must have shown on her face, for Aegor laughed. He gestured to his eyes. “I bargained something with the priests in Volantis for the sight. I too know what is coming. And I know where it will happen.”

Shiera gasped. “You willingly allow that many lives to die, for what? For a chance to prove to Brynden that you are better than him? You are a monster!”

Aegor laughed. “No more than your husband. Congratulations on that by the way. But yes, I am doing what I believe is right, as is he. We have all known it would have to happen eventually. Better now with this great generation of fighters. The young will learn the true meaning of war.”

“And how many will die for this?” Shiera retorted. “I thought you could be saved, I suppose I was wrong.”

Aegor nodded. “I never wanted saving, Shiera. That was your mistake. I am not Brynden, I never was.”

Shiera turned away, and walked out without responding, but when she was out of the cells, she whispered. “I know, Aegor, I know.” Not for the first time she wondered where Aegor had fallen and how and why. She returned to her husband’s rooms in the Tower of the Hand and sat down, the torch had long been abandoned.

“How was it?” Brynden asked, taking her hand and massaging it.

“Not good. He is too far gone.” Shiera replied, she looked at  her husband then and said. “You were right.”

Brynden kissed their joined hands. “I am sorry my love.” Shiera sighed and leaned back into his embrace then.


	64. Aelora III

** Chapter 64: Aelora III **

****

They walked through the gardens, enjoying the sunshine and one another’s company, and Aelora knew she had never felt happier. It was still strange to her that one person could evoke such happiness from you. But that was the case for her and Aerion, he made her smile and delight in the simple things. Since Father had died, she had needed that. Things were becoming far too serious with Mother and Aelor and she wondered what they were plotting, for they were always plotting something. She heard Aerion cough.

“Sorry?” Aelora said, blinking.

Aerion laughed. “It’s fine, where did you go?” Aerion was so understanding, completely different from how she had thought he would have been before. He was understanding and kind, and handsome too. The sun made him look like a portrait of Daeron the Young Dragon.

Aelora sighed. “I…I just keep wondering what my mother and Aelor are planning.” She looked at him and he raised an eyebrow. “I think they might have had something to do with what happened at the feast.”

Aerion pulled them to another area, away from the open ground. “You mean the feast where your father died?”

“Yes.” Aelora replied.

“Why do you say that? Have you heard something?” Aerion asked.

“I…” Aelora hesitated thinking of the murmured conversations she’d heard and the differing accounts and the hushed tones. “I think there might have been something happening there. Though, the conversations always centre around how Father hid who he truly was.”

She expected Aerion to act surprised, but instead he said. “Of course.”

“Of course? What do you mean of course?” Aelora asked, she wondered if there was something that Aerion knew that she didn’t.

Aerion looked around, making sure there was no one else around and then he spoke. “I overheard a conversation between two members of Aelor’s household. They all mentioned how Aelor was spending a lot of time reading through old notes that your father had left during his saner moments. A lot of them apparently include how he planned to remove Bloodraven from office before he ascended the throne.”

Aelora looked at Aerion wondering if he was playing with her. “What do you mean? Father was not that sort of person.”

Aerion sighed. “According to these two people and what they gathered your brother had found, your father was a completely different person to what we thought and that it seems he had something against Bloodraven.”

Aelora thought about it then, really mulled it over, and as she considered what she knew about her father, the kind, caring man he could be when the madness was not there, compared to the man who sang and spoke in riddles when the madness was there, she wondered. “Shiera gave him the potions that made him sane for longer periods. Do you think they could have done something to them?”

Aerion shook his head. “I don’t think so, I think Bloodraven is too smart to do that, he would know that if Rhaegel died then every finger would look at him. The only reason it hasn’t now is because of the Blackfyres.”

Aelora thought on this and then said. “That explains why Mother has been trying to convince Aelor to marry as soon as possible. She wants to tie up support for him as quickly as possible. Despite him being Prince of Dragonstone.”

“That makes sense. Aegor Rivers and Daemon Blackfyre might be in the black cells, but the Blackfyres are still out there, and given how unpopular the King and Bloodraven are, things could well break out into war.” Aerion responded. There was a brief silence and then Aerion asked. “Has she asked you to consider marriages?”

Aelora felt an odd swooping sensation in her stomach at the question. She suddenly felt like changing the topic, but Aerion had asked her an honest question, it was only right that she gave an honest answer. “She has, but truth be told other than perhaps cousin Jasper there hasn’t been anyone I’ve considered worthwhile outside of King’s Landing.”

Aelora watched Aerion’s face for his reaction, she saw a mix of emotions pass across his face. “So, there is someone you consider worthy?”

Aelora thought for a moment, and seeing some people approaching, took Aerion’s hand in hers. She looked right into his eyes and said. “Only if he too considers me worthy.”

Aerion looked at her and she him, and her heart raced. He looked at her and there was something writ within his face, some desire and longing she also felt. “Is it true?” Aerion whispered.

Aelora took a shuddering breath. “I think so. I feel it, don’t you?” She wanted him to say yes more than anything, but she was also terrified that if he said yes, she would not respond properly.

“I…I… yes.” Aerion replied just as breathlessly. “For a while now.”

Aelora smiled, and Aerion smiled in return. “Then shall we enjoy this moment for now, whilst we still have the freedom?”

Aerion nodded. “I think that would be appropriate.” Aerion stepped back and bowed, she giggled. “My Princess, may I have this dance?”

Aelora smiled and then said. “You may.” She took his hand and they began dancing, there was no music, but that did not matter, for Aelora being with Aerion was enough. They moved and twirled, and for a time Aelora felt as though she was the luckiest girl in the world, then Aerion stopped, his cheeks were flushed, and Aelora knew hers would be as well.

Aerion leaned down and pressed his forehead to hers. “How do you want to do this? Should I ask for your hand now?”

“You have to court me first.” Aelora said.

Aerion laughed, then he kissed her forehead. “Then court you, I will.” Aelora giggled. “I suppose we had best be returning back to the palace now.” They walked arm in arm back into the Red Keep, all the while Aelora’s heart soared, hopefully Mother would agree.


	65. Walderan

** Chapter 65: Walderan  **

****

Walderan took a deep breath, or rather a series of deep breaths. He knew how dangerous this meeting was, and  he knew just how important it was as well. He was a not a young man, but his father had just recently died, alongside his brothers and yet here he was planning something that might likely get him killed should they be found out. Hells, every time he looked over his shoulder he expected to see a member of the Raven’s Teeth approaching him with an arrest warrant. That they weren’t just heightened his paranoia. He blinked and looked at the men gathered, five lords, and two knights.

“Gentlemen, we stand on the edge of something.” He said, trying to keep everything straight in his head. “Gerold Lannister faces unpopularity due to the taxes he has enforced, and his wife is not winning anyone any favours through the rumours of her sorcery and the laxness she gives her Osgrey child.” The boy had terrorised Walderan’s own sister a few days ago, and the woman had brushed it off. “We must gather more support before we can fully strike.”

“A smart idea, my lord.” Ser Cyril Payne said, the man looked like some sort of animal, scars weathered his face, and made him seem primitive. “Gerold Lannister has the dark cloud of his niece’s supposed death hanging over him, something we can use.”

“I do not think such a thing is necessary.” Lord Kayce of Kenning, a man with a sharp nose said. “We already have enough going for us to make sure that he gets buried. The fact that Dagon Greyjoy continued his fight for so long before being sunk at sea by the Royal Fleet is something that has got to sting, for a man as proud as Lord Gerold.”

“We would be foolish not to exploit the rumours going around about what Gerold Lannister did to his niece and brother. Think about it, would any of us be here if Ser Tybolt was still alive?” Payne insisted.

There was some murmuring at that. Tybolt Lannister had been everything a Lord should be, strong, tall, handsome and martial. He was clever and jovial to boot as well. And Lord Gerold, well he was serious about much, and a good fighter and commander. But that did not make him a good lord. “He will know where the rumour is coming from.” Walderan pointed out. “You did not make things easy, with your constant blabbing.” This was directed at Payne who snorted.

“It is not blabbing but a truth that your father agreed on.” Payne shot back.

Walderan sighed, his father Lord Alyn had been a proud man who had fought in the Blackfyre rebellion for the Targaryens and had expected greater riches than he had been given. He had harboured bitterness for some time. Especially at King Daeron the Good. And when Gerold Lannister had ascended the Lion throne, things had gotten worse. It seemed Lord Alyn had wanted one of Walderan’s nephews to marry Cerelle Lannister but that had obviously been stopped. Hence the rumour. “The rumour will get us all killed. We need to bring people over who have legitimate grievances against the man, not those who believe in hearsay.” Walderan said.

“That did not stop Daemon Blackfyre from spreading the rumour that his half brother was actually a bastard, now did it?” Payne fired back. “My lord, I understand your reluctance but this is not some sort of childhood feud. This is something that will better the entire Westerlands. We know where the true heir of the Rock is and we know what to do. Lord Gerold is not going to improve things for us, and he will pander to Lady Rohanne as much as is possible. She is already damaging our trading ability.”

Payne was a soldier, Walderan knew this, his wife, Lady Serena had warned him of this before he had left for this meeting. Payne thrived on conflict and fighting, he did not like peace. Therefore, it was perhaps reasonable to question some if not all of his motives. Walderan thought on that for a moment and then said. “We shall not use the rumour. The Blackfyres is another thing we must discuss. Are we to associate with them or not?”

Walderan did  not consider the Blackfyres legitimate for anything other than fighting, he knew Kayce was a Targaryen loyalist, but that he hated Lord Gerold more than he liked the Targaryens, Payne was a blur, and the others were mixed. Lord Yarwyck a man who did not always speak, surprised Walderan by speaking then. “I think we must reserve judgement on the Blackfyres. Both Daemon the Second and Aegor Rivers sit in cells in King’s Landing, and Haegon Blackfyre has shown no desire to come across the narrow sea. He has conjured up quite the empire for himself in Essos. I do not think we should make this a nationwide issue.”

“I agree with Yarwyck.” Kayce said. “That way the crown has no reason to get involved. Consequently, we need to find reasons for removing Gerold Lannister that do not involve his supposed murder of his niece.”

Payne grumbled, and someone else, Walderan thought it was Lord Lydden said. “I think we must also ensure that we have enough men to carry through this rebellion. Otherwise we will be dead before we even get going. And we must make sure we have enough to offer those who would join us.”

Walderan nodded that was common sense. “We have enough to buy two thousand men from the Lannisters themselves, add in Banefort’s dispute with Crakehall over boundaries and we’ve got some more men there.”

“Of course one cannot take Banefort for granted, that could all be an illusion we don’t know.” Kayce pointed out.

“Naturally.” Walderan replied. He knew the hour was getting late, and he wanted to visit his wife. “So, we are all in agreement then. We shall wait for the solar eclipse before moving.”

“Agreed.” They all said. Walderan nodded, turned and walked out before making his way home, feeling a slight tinge of excitement.

 


	66. Edric IV

** Chapter 66: Edric IV **

****

 

Edric despised living in this little hovel of a holdfast. It was far too plain and sparse and not fitting for a Stark of Winterfell. Of course he wasn’t sure he should complain considering the life they’d lived as sellswords amongst the Company of the Rose. Many of the company had decided to work for him, tending to the land and acting as traders in Wintertown and White Harbour, and so they were making some profit from it all, and he hoped that soon enough they’d be able to remove some of the old broken down walls of the holdfast and replace them with something better. Before they could do that though Edric knew they had to discuss things.

His wife Serena, even dignified, and his sons Cregard and Torrhen were present in his solar. It was better to keep these meetings to just the four of them. That way there would be less chance of something leaking out to Beron, who was surprisingly well informed. “It has been some time since we last had a look through the books as to how things are progressing with the resistance.” Edric began, feeling foolish for having named it the Resistance but knowing that it had to stick. “Therefore, I thought it would be wise to do so.” He brought out a scroll and read it aloud. “We’ve got some three thousand men trained and prepared to fight at a moment’s notice. Jasper Long has been training men deep within the Eastern Hills, and Lord Hornwood has been preparing his levies. Lord Bolton has kept a closer eye on the passageway and has reminded Lord Manderly of their family ties.” That was important Manderly could well turn the tide in any civil war. “Lord Karstark has been meeting with the smaller lords and has gotten them onside.” He took a breath. “And Jon Umber has reaffirmed his commitment with the birth of his son.” Edric was a grandfather now that Arrana had given birth to a child.

Serena spoke. “That is good, it means we are keeping things safe and reliable. Manderly shouldn’t be too hard to convince, he knows where things are going. Beron might have the western lords, but the eastern lords were always more favourable to us. Furthermore, Cerwyn himself is ageing and might not be there for much longer.” Edric nodded, Cerwyn had won Beron the last war, or rather had commanded his nephew’s troops in such a way as to make those negotiations inevitable.

Edric concurred. “Our sources report that Cerwyn is most definitely not going to be able to fight should there be another war. And that Beron himself has been experiencing some of the negative consequences from the last war.” Edric did not really know how to feel about his nephew, on the one hand he was proud the boy was putting up such a fight, on the other hand, he was annoyed that the boy was denying what was rightfully his. “Consequently, this could mean the boy’s son Donnor leads his forces into battle.”

Torrhen spoke then. “If Donnor leads their forces into battle, I think we will sustain early losses but will be able to win long term. The man has no patience, according to Aregelle.” It had been part of the treaty, Aregelle was to live in Winterfell to get to know her betrothed before their marriage, she reported back frequently on what happened, though Edric suspected that Beron knew this, which merely raised his suspicions.

“You are sure that is what she means?” He asked his son, who was closer to Aregelle being of a similar disposition as her.

“I am sure, Father. I read through the letters she sends numerous times and there is nothing there that suggests they have been tampered with.” Torrhen replied.

“Very well,” Edric replied deciding to trust his son. “Now, Cregard, there is the issue of your marriage.” His son was in his late twenties, and was a fine fellow, strong, athletic and charismatic he would make a good lord one day. “There are the choices of Lord Bolton’s sister, Lord Hornwood’s daughter, Lord Karstark’s niece or Lord Manderly’s daughter. Bolton’s sister comes with a large dowry, as does Manderly’s the other two bring more men.” That was something that Edric had found quite odd, the fact that Manderly and Bolton both could muster some four thousand men at a drop, but that Karstark and Hornwood could bring five thousand men each if they scraped the barrel.

Cregard was silent for a moment, considering which way he wished to turn. Eventually he said. “Lord Bolton’s sister, it would ensure closer ties between our two houses and ensure that we have sufficient funds for a longer war.”

“I shall write to Lord Bolton to confirm this then.” Edric confirmed.

“What about our own men? How do we fare there?” Serena asked.

Edric took a deep breath then replied. “We have five hundred men, trained and ready, prepared to fight at a moment’s notice. Combine that with the men Long has been training and we are ready to rebel at a moment’s notice.”

“Then what are we waiting for, we should get going as soon as possible.” Serena said. “The longer we take, the higher the chances are that Beron will find out what it is we are doing.”

“Mother is right, Father.” Torrhen said. “The longer we delay, the harder it will be to get everything going. And yes there is an argument for ensuring we are all prepared. But who defines what being prepared means? We know where their weaknesses are, we have to exploit them.”

“I agree with Torrhen, Father.” Cregard said. “We must act now, before things change.”

Edric was not sure he agreed with his sons and wife, but he knew that they did have to act at some point, and therefore, he took a deep breath and said. “Very well, Cregard you shall speak with Bowen Marsh and ensure our men are ready. I shall speak with Long and get him to bring the men from the hills. Serena send the letters to Bolton, Karstark, Hornwood and Umber. We shall rise up before this year is out.”


	67. Bloodraven VI

** Chapter 67: Bloodraven VI **

****

“The Westerlands and the North are in complete chaos, Edric Stark has raised half the Eastern Northern Lords to his cause and brought the Company of the Rose back onto the Kingdom. The Westerlands are divided between those supporting Lord Tarbeck, mainly minor lords and their bannermen, and those supporting Gerold Lannister and the established order. So far, it seems as though Lannister is struggling, he suffered defeats Tarbeck Hall, The Ashwood, and Cornfield. And it appears that he himself was wounded during the last battle. His cousin Ser Tytos is commanding Lannister loyalists. In the North the situation is only slightly better. Beron Stark pushed back an initial assault at the Battle of the White Knife, but lost his prized commander Lord Cerwyn. Manderly forces defeated Ryswell forces at the battle of White Ridge, though whether Manderly is fighting for Edric Stark or not is not clear. Elsewhere Umber defeated the Mountain Clans and is marching on Winterfell from the north. In short these two regions are in chaos.” Bloodraven surmised reading through the reports his spies had sent. How he had missed the situation in the north he did not know.

“So, what is to be done?” Maekar asked, he looked imperious and frankly Brynden was surprised he was not lecturing him on all of this. “Are we sending men to both areas, or only to one?”

Brynden considered the question, the Westerlands brought more income into the treasury, but the north was the biggest and most loyal of all the kingdoms. If the Blackfyres came as he suspected they would, they would need both, but only one could be saved right now. “You shall under orders from His Majesty the King command an army to the Westerlands to aid in defending the area from the rebels. Provide advice and support where necessary to Lord Gerold, and to bring the head of Lord Tarbeck back to King’s Landing.” He took a breath then said. “We shall have to trust that Lord Beron is able to hold his own against his rebellious uncle.” Really, they should have executed Edric Stark when they had had the chance, he should have been more assertive on that point.

“And what of other areas?” That was Aelor, Prince of Dragonstone and first in line to the throne. “Are we going to keep an eye on other areas to ensure they don’t erupt?”

“Our spies already know that the Vale, Dorne and the Stormlands are the areas where there is likely to be some unrest. The Vale due to Lord Jasper’s approach in regards to the new graft tax, and due to tensions between Templeton and Royce. The Dornish are experiencing more potential unrest between Martell and Yronwood, though Prince Maron insists he can handle it. In the Stormlands, Lord Baratheon is fighting through various stages of grief with his sons dead, his grandsons dead, and only one heir left who is estranged from him. His lords are considering rebelling, though there is nothing solid.” Brynden replied

“Surely then we should act on all three. Maybe not Dorne, for we do not want to make that situation worse. But the Vale and the Stormlands must see some of the crown’s involvement. The Vale because they are the area where the Prince of Dragonstone’s mother comes from. The Stormlands because they have been staunch allies.” Prince Maekar said.

Brynden considered this, there was some sense in what he said, and yet there were some things that held Bloodraven back from making that commitment. “We have nothing but the mere whisperings of treasonous activities from these lords, and that is not enough to act on. Not right now, I believe. The King is in agreement, after several other minor issues with the lords of the Riverlands, we feel it is best that things are allowed to develop first.”

Maekar snorted. “So, the Master of Whispers and Hand of the King wants a period to develop a legal basis for any activity. What happened? What changed your mind?”

“The simple fact that if we make a move now, without proper evidence, we shall be left standing there with our breeches down. The Crown cannot afford such a loss of prestige, not now, and not with things finally settling down with the Company of the Cat.” Brynden responded. There had been fierce negotiations to make the realm accept the Company of the Cat as a standing army of the crown and for the Company to itself accept this. Aerion seemed to be finally considering it.

“So, you would wait and do nothing, meanwhile allowing treason to stand?” Maekar shot back, disgust in his voice.

“I would ensure that the Crown has everything there, prepared and backing it before making a decision that could either ensure we have peace for a lifetime, or a war that will engulf all the kingdom. If you thought as a politician and not a soldier for a brief moment you might understand that.” Brynden snarled back, he was getting tired of Maekar challenging him.

“That did not stop you, when Daemon was whispering nothing but his own frustrations. That didn’t stop you when Daemon pleaded innocence before Father, before countless people died.” Maekar snarled in return.

Brynden stopped himself from saying something that he would regret, the words had hit far too close to home and he had no desire to create a scene. Instead, he took several breaths, steadied himself and then said. “The King has agreed with what I have said here. You are to go to the Westerlands with men from your lands as well as men under the command of Ser Roland Crakehall and Ser William Wylde. That is all.” Brynden stood up and walked out of the room, making his way back to the Tower of the Hand when a vision struck him.

_Endless corridors, on fire, burning brightly, a girl with red hair, staring at him, taunting him. “Melony, Lot Seven.” She said, her voice a whisper on the wind. A black dragon appeared behind her and engulfed them both with flames._


	68. Haegon II

** Chapter 68: Haegon II **

****

 

“You cannot keep telling Mother what she can and cannot do, Calla. She is not your daughter, she is not Barbra, she is not Rhaenyra, she is our Mother. And since she is too polite to say it, I will say it for her. Stop it, stop it right now, or leave, and don’t return.” Haegon said, his patience with his sister beginning to wane.

“Is that a threat?” Calla replied, her chin raised, her attitude defiant, her spies sparking with anger. Haegon wanted to sigh, he wanted to scream, he kept his voice calm.

“It is not a threat, I do not make threats, Calla. It is a promise. Keep treating Mother like she is some sort of traitor, and I will force you to leave.” Haegon responded.

“And you would throw your nephews and nieces out as well would you?” Calla responded.

“I would not. They have done nothing wrong. Only you have.” Haegon stated.

He saw the shock on his sister’s face, the surprise that then changed into anger. “You know that would only make them hate you. Besides, we both know Mother has not wanted a fight with the usurper’s get for some time. She has lost her fight and her stomach. She is nothing but a traitor.”

Haegon raised his hand and prepared to strike his sister but then lowered it and took a breath. “Apologise.” He snarled.

“What?” Calla replied.

“Apologise, now.” Haegon snarled, his temper fraying.

Something must have flashed in his eyes, because Calla sighed and said. “I’m sorry, Mother. I did not mean that.”

Mother who was sat at his side replied. “It is okay, sweetling.” It wasn’t okay, but Haegon did not have the time to keep that going.

He cleared his throat and then said. “We have had word from Westeros, the Westerlands and the North have erupted into rebellion against their overlords. Tarbeck writes that he is doing this for us though he has not yet declared as such openly. Edric Stark writes he wants Winterfell and nothing else. I fear we might have to remind him who it was who provided the funds for his first mission, if we wish to avoid an independent north. Since then, the Vale has erupted into rebellion, with Templeton, Corbray, Waynwood, and others joining together to fight what they consider to be the harsh and regressive practices of Jasper Arryn. I believe they will declare for us if given the right incentive.” He took a breath, and continued. “As for the Stormlands, there are minor pockets of rebellion here and there. The Marcher lords have been cowed under Maekar Targaryen and are venturing into the Westerlands to aid him in putting down that rebellion. Other Stormlords are shifting between camps in terms of who they are loyal to, it has been hard to get an accurate reading.” He took another breath, and then continued. “As for Dorne, that place has exploded, Maron Martell’s incompetency has been exposed for all to see, and as such the Dornish are now fighting one another. The question immediately facing us is, do we declare now and move or not?”

“I think we should. If we do not want to give up the initiative.” Calla said, defiant as always.

“I agree with Calla, I think it would be foolish to wait until something else happened. Westeros is tearing itself apart, we owe it to Daemon to at least try and get something. The Golden Company might be happy sitting around playing at ruling now, but they more they know that the Seven Kingdoms are burning themselves apart, the more they’re going to want to get involved.” Aenys said.

“There is no guarantee that Brynden won’t execute your brother or Aegor the moment you raise the Blackfyre banner and declare your intentions.” Mother said. “Brynden will know that with the kingdoms exploding around him, he needs to take decisive action otherwise he risks being removed or worse, executed. And he is someone who I do not think would tolerate that.”

“And we have no idea that he would either. Daemon is valuable in that he prevents Haegon from crowning himself King. Haegon is far more the warrior than Daemon is, and as such, his continued survival means the more martial of father’s former followers are less likely to rally to his banners. Therefore, we need to take advantage of the situation we find ourselves in now, rather than wait around and hope and pray that nothing else happens.” Calla replied sounding quite angry.

“You would doom your own brother, for a chance at what?” Mother asked. Her own voice starting to rise.

“For the chance for the rest of the family to return home, to take what is ours, and to ensure that none of our children ever have to grow up in squalor ever again.” Calla replied.

Haegon bristled slightly at that. What squalor his sister could be referring to when they had lived in their uncle’s palace, and then a war camp for some time and now the palace at the Golden Fields. “There is also the matter of Volantis. Though I am sure that with enough money the Triarchs can be convinced to bugger off for a time.”

“So, you agree, with Calla then?” Mother demanded.

Haegon gritted his teeth, the women in his family always had to make life so fucking difficult. “I think we must seize this opportunity with both hands and ensure that we make the most of it.” His mother sighed. Haegon looked at Baelon. “Baelon, I want you to send word to our friends in Westeros, tell them what we expect. I shall prepare the Company and handle Volantis.” With that he signalled the end of the meeting and walked out, as he made his way back to his chambers, his nephew, Daemon stopped him.

Daemon Bittersteel was tall, with black hair, and violet eyes, the very image of his father, without the scowl. “Uncle, I was wondering if I could ask you something?”

“Sure, lad, what is it?” Haegon asked, he would soon have to look up to see his nephew, the thought irked him slightly.

“I was wondering if I could command the third battalion?” Daemon asked.

Haegon was surprised he had expected something a little different, but still that was nothing to far beyond him to grant, the third was the most active battalion the company had. “Certainly, and with time you might command a regiment.” Haegon replied, his nephew grinned and walked away.

 


	69. Maekar IX

** Chapter 69: Maekar IX **

****

 

Maekar stretched and ensured that the crooks in his back were lessened. Being back on the field was something he had looked forward to for some time, but the manner with which it was occurring was not something he liked. Traitors in Westeros, traitors everywhere he looked, that was not something he liked or wanted to think about, but it was the reality and therefore he had to confront it. The Westerlands was one of the richest areas in the entirety of the kingdom and therefore needed protecting. The defeats that Lord Gerold had suffered had severely hindered their cause, and as such Maekar had had to fix things from the ground up. It had not been easy.

“We stand at some twelve thousand men, combining our two forces together, and the rebels stand at ten thousand men, but they are moving through the hinterland and ensuring that they take whatever they want. How are we to fight them on fair terms when they are making us look like the bad people?” Lord Crakehall demanded, he was Ser Roland’s nephew, and an impatient man as any.

“Tarbeck is doing things that are antagonising him to the populace, he might sit and crow about what he thinks he is and what he is doing, but the reality is quite different. Anyone with common sense can see that.” Lord Gerold replied, though the man sounded tired, and not quite as convincing.

“I disagree, I think that the more time he spends out on the field, the higher the chances are that he might very well do something that could cause chaos.” Lord Robert Reyne said. “I think we need to engage him as soon as possible, before he does something from which we cannot come back from.”

“And  what do you propose we do, my lord?” Maekar asked deciding to speak now rather than remain silent. “We have already successfully cornered him to the point w here he is now looking to engage us. We cannot move from this position otherwise we risk turning things from good to bad. Furthermore, we need to think about other things compared to him. Lannisport, Feastfires and Kayce are all serving as our bulwark against him. We must ensure we keep enough men within those areas to prevent him gaining ground.” Gerold Lannister had brains,  but there were times when Maekar wondered if he were better suited to politics than war, for some of his suggestions for the fighting had been truly out there.

“With respect Your Royal Highness,” Lord Robert replied. “I disagree. I think that we must ensure that Tarbeck is kept on the back foot, permanently. So far it seems as though we are simply dancing around in circles trying to keep ourselves from biting our own tails. That is not the sign of a confident army, but rather a sign of an army that is broken.”

Maekar bit his tongue, the man’s uncle had fought for Daemon Blackfyre, and as such, Robert Reyne was like to know a lot about broken armies. Instead he said. “I believe I understand where you are coming from, my lord, but fundamentally, common sense dictates that we stand where we are best suited and hold ourselves from there.”

Lord Reyne bit his tongue, and this time Lord Lefford spoke. “I agree, Your Royal Highness. We cannot afford to change the position of the army right now. We must stand, hold our ground and ensure that we put enough pressure on Lord Tarbeck so that he makes the mistakes of his own volition.” There was some murmuring at that, Lefford was quite popular with the other lords.

Lord Gerold spoke then. “We know that Tarbeck has usually positioned his forces in three battalions spread out across the field. They usually dig themselves in on the right and the left, allowing the centre to pursue some sort of sweeping gesture as if it is a river that is coming to create chaos. However, the terrain here, is not suitable to that, therefore I must wonder if Tarbeck will pursue another strategy.”

“The ground is rough so any digging in they do will be suited for our archers.” Maekar pointed out. He had brought the finest archers from the Marches for this purpose. “Furthermore, their lancers will need to take charge from a considerable distance, something that our archers can once again handle.” Not for the first time Maekar worried about not having the Company of the Cat with them, Brynden had insisted they remain in the capital as defence.

“Agreed.” Lord Gerold said.

There was a pregnant pause, before Maekar said. “There is nothing more to discuss on this matter, you are all dismissed. Lord Gerold, remain behind if you would?” the man nodded and the other lords filed out. Once they were alone, Maekar spoke. “You know, you can remain quiet during the war councils, I know you don’t find these things useful.”

Lord Gerold was a proud man  who had suffered at the hands of the Blackfyres as a child, but was now tall and strong. “I know that, Your Royal Highness, but that does not mean that I cannot give my thoughts. I am their overlord and they must know that I will lead them into battle. Three defeats is already an embarrassing thing considering my brother never lost a battle.”

Maekar sighed, he knew that dance well. “Your brother was a born soldier. You yourself even admitted that you did more of the administration than he did, when he was alive. Never forget that. Your father also faced defeats but he regrouped and learned from them. You are young yet, my lord, there is still time.”

Lord Gerold snorted. “Not with the way things are going.” With that he turned and left as well, leaving Maekar alone, debating the future of everything.

A few hours later, he was dressed and prepared for battle, with a nod, the horn of war sounded and they were off to fight and maybe die protecting the throne.


	70. Beron VIII

** Chapter 70: Beron VIII **

****

 

“We are currently standing on the cusp of something that could very well be the defining moment of this war. I think that if we can just push forward a little more we can ensure that we are on the front foot and that Edric can be boxed in, to ensure there is nothing they can do.” Beron argued. It had been some time since the war had started, and they had been moving from place to place and as such he was not sure whether they would be able to keep things going.

“My lord, whilst I think your suggestion is the right one, I do have to argue that there are some areas where we might be able to improve.” Lord Tallhart said. “We have fought on the same strategy since the White Knife, and as such whilst we have won more battles than we have lost, we have lost a considerable amount of men and time.”

“I agree that we might have made an error or two during the Battle of the Great Cave,” Beron conceded, the Battle of the Great Cave had been one where they had been struggling through wind and rain, yet, they had won, but just about. “However, I do not think we could have won in the manner that we had, had we gone with the reverse selection that had been proposed originally. We saw what happened when we moved from one position to another, there was chaos and confusion. We cannot guarantee that there would be something different happening, were we to pursue it.”

Lord Tallhart took a moment to consider this response, and Beron could tell that the man  did not like what he had said, and if he were being honest he did not much care. “I agree that we cannot change manoeuvres now, for that would be reckless, but we must at least consider changing the way in which we implement our current plans. Otherwise we shall be stuck with nothing more than bodies to show.”

“Hornwood is looking as if he is going to break one day or another. He has lost two brothers, and one son during this war so far, and he looks as though he might lose another one, considering what happened at the Great Cave.” Lord Ryswell said. “I think that with a bit of a push we can ensure that he breaks, and that could give us some breathing room.”

Ryswell had lost a son himself during the Battle of the Great Cave, something that had been playing on Beron’s mind, and he wondered at night whether Ryswell would change sides. “I agree, though what sort of push would be needed. Considering their financial situation is being propped up by the Iron Bank, and they’ve made clear that they won’t stop funding them. I believe perhaps we can play on his love of family.” Beron did not like where his thoughts were going with this, but it had to be done. “I want you to ensure that there is sufficient provision put aside for this.”

“Yes, my lord.” Ryswell replied. “I shall also notify our spy within their ranks to inform him that the plan has been put in place.”

“Now, Edric is within the confines of White Harbour’s northern perimeter. We know that they are strengthening their position, I believe we must split our force. One side going for the heartland camp Ramsgate, and the other to tempt Edric’s forces out from White Harbour. Consequently, we must ensure that Edric’s forces do not get any hint of an idea of what we are doing.” Beron said. “I know that Edric is someone who will try and flit and flip, but we must ensure he never gets the chance.”

“I’ve done as you asked, my lord and sent outriders toward the gates of White Harbour, and I’ve also got reports back from our spies. There is a chance that Edric might well send a small force under his son Cregard to take the Hill Fort where the rations are kept.” Jonothor Cassel said.

The Hill Fort was a key part of his plan; he knew where it was the land that was filled with rigs and pits, the perfect place to lay the ground for a trap. “I want that land stocked filled with archers and spearmen.” Beron demanded.

“As you wish, my lord.” Jonothor Cassel said.

“We shall leave here on the morrow.” Beron said. “For now, I want you all to get some rest.” The lords bowed and left, leaving Beron alone with his son. Donnor was growing to be a tall lad, with brown hair, and dark grey eyes, they were like the heart of a storm. “How are you doing lad?”

His son shrugged. “Well enough.”

Beron sighed. “Come now, lad, you don’t need to hide anything from me. I’ll let you in on a little secret, I’m terrified.” Donnor raised an eyebrow and Beron continued. “It’s true you know, I’m wondering where things will go and whether or not we’ll still be able to keep things going properly when all is said and done. And though he is threatening our family, Edric is still family, so I worry for him.”

“How do you keep a cool head and now show anything before the lords?” Donnor asked. “If it were me, I’d not be able to do that.”

Beron laughed. “It takes time, all you have to do is keep your mind clear and think of the things that you need to get done. Keeping all unnecessary thought out of your head. And from there things become clearer.”

Donnor nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind for the future.” His son hesitated and then asked. “When this is all done and dusted, will I still be marrying Aregelle?”

Beron thought about that, Aregelle was a sweet girl, and she made his usually stern son smile, there was that alone to make him consider allowing the marriage to go ahead. But then her father was a rebel, and her loyalties were suspect. “I think that is something we shall need to consider once the fighting is done.”

His son nodded, and rose, but before leaving his son said. “I do think she’d make a good Lady of Winterfell in the future.” Beron nodded and watched his son go, before praying to the gods.

 


	71. Aerion XIII

** Chapter 71: Aerion XIII **

****

“So, I heard a rumour that Lady Jeyne was found in bed with Ser Roland, and that her husband, Lord Jon is threatening to challenge Ser Roland to a duel, to reclaim his and the family’s honour.” Aerion said, the feel of Aelora’s arm linked with his was a comforting one.

“Really? I heard that it was Lady Jeyne who found her husband abed with Ser Roland and that her brother threatened to castrate both men for the insult done.” Aelora replied.

Aerion snorted. “I don’t think Lord Jon is the sort of man to do that sort of thing, Aelora. He’s far too manly for that.” Lord Jon Darklyn was a man’s man, strong, muscled and handsome with plenty of female admirers, though he had only ever slept with his wife, the fair Lady Jeyne as far as Aerion knew.

“Oh come now, Aerion, you don’t believe that, surely?” Aelora replied.

“What do you mean?” Aerion asked.

“Well think about it.” Aelora replied, they had stopped walking and she was looking at him, by the Seven she was beautiful. “Lord Jon is so well toned and muscled and he always fights bare-chested,” Aelora blushed. “According to Aelor, anyway, therefore it would make sense that he might have those sort of tastes. After all, Ser Roland is a friend of his.”

Aerion thought about it, Ser Roland Waters, was the half-brother of Lord Rosby, the new one after the old one had died, and he was pretty, not handsome. “I have an easier time thinking that Ser Roland likes men than I do Lord Jon.” Maybe that was just him, but he preferred his warriors to have conventional tastes.

“Well, that’s you. Personally, I think it makes things far more interesting.” Aelora replied.

Aerion laughed. “Of course you do, you love gossip. You’re like an old maid.” Aelora pouted. “A very pretty and smart old maid.” He added. Aelora giggled and he wanted to kiss her then, but he restrained himself. Aelora was his Princess, not some dockside whore.

Aelora walked forward further into the woods, and Aerion followed, aware that Ser Rupert Crabb of the Kingsguard was following. “So, what else have you heard?” Aerion asked. He fought down a moment of jealousy at the fact that whilst he was gossiping like some sort of maid, his brother Aegon was fighting in the Westerlands.

“I know Aelor has considered marrying Lady Margaery Tyrell, but also has considered marrying Catelyn Tully as well. It seems he wants to marry someone who hasn’t got such entrenched power.” Aelora replied. Aerion nodded, if he felt frustrated, Aelor most definitely was, the younger man was Prince of Dragonstone and for that reason had been denied the right to command as was his right.

Aerion considered that. “Do you think he’s changed his mind from marrying a Stark girl because of the fighting in the north?” It did make sense, Aerion had spoken to Lonnel, and his friend had wanted to head north to fight alongside his brothers, but had been denied that chance by the Hand of the King, something Aerion could not understand.

“I think Aelor is more concerned with who is readily available before him than anything else. Lady Margaery is here as one of my ladies in waiting and as such, they meet quite regularly. Lady Catelyn has come because her brother Ser Edmure is here as an advisor. I think Aelor will marry Lady Margaery if I am being honest. She has a lot of the traits he admires in a woman, and I think she wants to be Queen.” Aelora said, something shifting in her voice as she spoke.

Aerion looked at her and asked. “You do not like her?”

“I think that she is a nice enough girl, but I do think that she wants something completely different to what Aelor wants. He wants someone who will be the foil for him, there for him to bounce ideas off of, whilst she wants the power of the crown.” Aelora replied. “What else can you expect from someone whose family were originally only stewards.”

Aerion snorted, Aelora could be quite high and mighty when she wanted to be. “They also have one of the biggest armies in the kingdom, they aren’t something to be scoffed at. Especially with the mess that is going on right now in the rest of Westeros.” He had attended a council meeting, and argued quite passionately for the Company of the Cat to either go to the Vale or to Dorne, both suggestions had been rejected completely by the Hand of the King.

“How are things going in the war?” Aelora asked. “I know you wanted to be there to fight, but…” she trailed off then and Aerion knew what she meant. He was both frustrated and relieved that he wasn’t in the field right now. Spending time here, with her, that was what he lived for.

“Father and Lord Lannister have retaken several forts along the coast from Lord Tarbeck and his traitorous allies, they’ve also defeated him in battle twice now. And yet he continues to refuse to surrender. Some think he’s got an outside backer, but neither Aegor Rivers nor Blackfyre seem to know who that could be.” Aerion was sure Blackfyre was lying, that man  knew more about things than he let on to anyone. “Beron Stark has won a battle in the north, he killed Cregard Stark, his cousin and his rival’s eldest son. So, that might signal the end of the fighting there for a time. The Vale continues to tear itself apart, Lord Jasper is fighting against more enemies than he has allies, and in Dorne, well no one knows what’s happening in Dorne as all communication lines have been cut off.”

Aelora sighed. “Do you wish you were still fighting out there?”

“I think,” Aerion began, before hesitating, he wasn’t sure how to go about this. “I think that as General of the Company of the Cat, I need to be out there leading my men, fighting for Westeros against her enemies. But, as a person, as a young man, I’d rather be here with you.”

Aelora stopped and faced him. “Do you mean that?”

Aerion looked into her eyes and found himself losing himself in them. “Yes.”

“Then come with me to the Great Sept, and let us get married.” Aelora said.

That surprised him, but he nodded. “Okay.” Aelora smiled and kissed his cheek, causing him to grin like an idiot.


	72. Chapter 72: Aelora IV

** Chapter 72: Aelora IV **

****

Aelora and Aerion arrived at the Great Sept of Baelor, to find Mother there waiting for them, as she’d promised she would be. “Mother.” Aelora said, slightly out of breath. Mother nodded to her and then looked at Aerion who bowed.

“Princess Alys.” Mother nodded to him and then gestured to the guards to open the doors. They did as such and they walked through into the great sept with its towering statutes and ominous figures and paintings. Mother stopped before the altar where the High Septon stood.

“Are you sure you wish to go through with this Aelora?” Mother asked.

Aelora nodded. “I am.” She looked at Aerion and took his hand. “Aerion and I…we love one another, and there is no one I would rather be with.” She felt Aerion squeeze her hand.

Mother looked at Aerion then, fixed him with a hawk eyed glance. “And you? What do you say, Prince Aerion?” She and Mother had argued constantly, over this, Mother wanted her to wait until the war was over, Aelora had replied that they would never know when the war would end and when Aerion might be asked to fight. Eventually, she had won. Aelor had stepped in and helped. He stood to one side, watching her now.

“I love your daughter, Princess Alys. I will do everything in my power to protect her and care for her.” Aerion replied. Aelora beamed at him.

Mother smiled and was about to say something when the doors to the Sept flew open. There standing before them in the fading light was Brynden Rivers, Hand of the King and Lord of Whispers. He strode into the Great Sept, his cloak billowing around him, his one red eye focused on her. He stopped before them and said. “This marriage cannot happen.”

“Why?” Aelora asked. She looked at Mother who nodded. “We got permission from the King for this.”

Bloodraven sighed. “The King changed his min. With the war currently raging around us, it has been decided with the King’s consent that this marriage cannot take place. As you, Your Royal Highness would be better served marrying a Lord or an Heir who would help the Crown’s cause during this difficult time.”

Aelora felt as though her whole world had been upended, she did not think that uncle would change his mind so quickly, and yet here was Lord Brynden saying that that had happened. “I do not believe you.” Aerion said stepping forward, he towered over the Hand of the King. “I think you are lying to play for time. What scheme are you concocting?”

The Hand looked at Aerion and said. “I am disappointed in you, Aerion. I would have thought that you would understand where this is coming from. You are a General of the Company of the Cat, a sellsword company which you have refused to hand over to the Crown’s possession, therefore you are still a sellsword, and a sellsword is no fit wife for a Princess of the Blood.”

Aerion made to strike the Hand, but was stopped by another voice. “Brynden, that is quite enough.” They all turned and Aelora gasped, she had not seen the King in some time. He stood tall, his beard clipped, his hair shortened. He stepped forward into the Sept and continued. “I thank you for your diligence Brynden, but I do not think stopping these two-young people from marrying is going to improve our situation.”

“But, Your Majesty, surely keeping both Aelor and Aelora free to marry those who would make political sense for the crown is the angle that should be pursued here?” Bloodraven stated.

The King’s eyes flashed then. “Aerion brings with him an army, that is more than enough reason to allow this marriage to happen. Add in the fact that he loves Aelora and she, him and that is more than enough.” The Hand of the King remained silent then. The King looked at Aelora. “Come child, let us get you married.” He extended his arm, and she took it, together they walked to the altar, where Aerion was now stationed.

The High Septon, a dithering old man spoke. “Who comes?”

“Aelora Targaryen, Princess of the Blood and daughter of Prince Rhaegel and Princess Alys. I, King Aerys Targaryen, give her away. Who claims her?” The King said.

“I, Aerion, Prince of the Blood, Commander-General of the Company of the Cat, son of Prince Maekar and Princess Dyanna claim her.” Aerion replied. He stepped up to stand next to her, and they joined hands, Aerion smiled at her and she smiled in return and tried not to blush.

“We stand here, before the Gods to unite these two people in holy matrimony. If there are any here who wish for these two people not to be married, let them speak now.” The High Septon said, when no one spoke, he continued. “You may now recite your vows, if you have any.”

Aelora spoke first, she knew Aerion was somewhat taken aback by all of this. “I, Aelora, do hereby swear to love and cherish you, from this day, till our last and all of our days in between. I swear to listen to you, counsel you and protect you from the evils of the world. To share in the joys and the good of the world. By the Old Gods and New I do swear.”

Aerion smiled at her and said. “I, Aerion, do hereby swear to love and cherish you, from this day, till our last and all of our days in between. I swear to protect you, love you, listen and love you, from all the evils of the world. To share the joys of the world, by the Old Gods and New, I do swear.”

The High Septon nodded. “I now pronounce you, husband and wife. You may now kiss.”

Aerion leaned forward and smiled. “My Princess.” He whispered.

“My Prince.” Aelora replied, they leaned toward one another and kissed, and to Aelora it was the most beautiful thing ever.


	73. Jasper

** Chapter 73: Jasper **

****

The armour was stifling in this heat, the summer sun had come and the heat alongside it. Jasper fought hard through the uncomfortableness to ensure that things were balanced and that he knew just where he was. Yet it was difficult, and he kept finding his thoughts turning to the battles that had been lost, the battles where his friends and subjects had died. Four defeats, that was his record now, four defeats and no victories. Various keeps had been lost and his men had either died, or slunk away to other camps. He took a breath and pushed onward, there was no time to mull, but that was all he could do.

Jasper knew he was a good fighter, but his skill at commanding seemed lacking. That was something that embarrassed him. As Lord of the Eyrie and Lord of the Vale he could not give command of the host to anyone else. It had to be him who handled things, and ensured that there was a balance, otherwise he was sure there would be fighting and squabbling amongst those who had remained with him. The defeats stung, especially as he had known how to avoid one of them, but it had eluded him due to pride. He kept quiet now during discussions and encouraged others to decide how things would progress. Long term it would harm his authority, but now it would do good, otherwise he’d have no authority left.

They stopped at the ridge, where Jasper’s men had sourced the camp of the rebels. Jasper could see their banners flying high in the air, Templeton, Corbray, Grafton and others, all of whom had taunted him and laughed at him for his perceived failure to handle their initiatives. Jasper wished he could remove his helm, to get at the sweat dripping down his brow. He fought against the urge though, and remained ahorse. They were waiting for the sign, for the enemy to venture out, they had laid the trap perfectly, playing on Corbray’s arrogance and pride, though he was beginning to think that the Gods favoured Corbray over anyone else considering the victories the man had had.

Somewhere, a bird chirped, and a ruffle was heard. Jasper tensed, the men around him tensed as well. Another movement then a dog barked, Jasper brought his mace forward in his hand, prepared to fight. A horn sounded, a shout broke out. “Charge.” Jasper roared, and so they progressed, through the mire that had become the Vale, Jasper swung his mace when the first person came at him, he destroyed the man’s face and moved on. He took another person down, then another. Blood was pumping furiously around him, and he knew he had to keep looking forward to ensure that he did not get stuck within the same patterns as before.

Jasper moved through the throng, his arms beginning to ache the more he swung his mace, he was not sure if there would be a chance to break free from the constraints of the armour. He was sweating fiercely now, there was pain in his back and his head. Still, Jasper knew that giving up now would not end well, therefore he pushed down the desire to vomit and swung his mace. He heard a satisfying crunch signalling that someone had just been crushed by his mace. He risked a glance at it, and saw that it was covered in blood. He nodded, that was a good thing, it meant he was not going to die any time soon.

He felt a sharp pull, and felt a blow to his leg. He looked down and found someone trying to hit him, he leaned out and kicked the person in the head, sending them spinning backwards. Four more people appeared then, he fought them as best as he could, but they were growing in strength, seemingly getting more powerful the longer they fought, whilst he was growing tired. Sometime during the fight, his horse was slain, he just about managed to get out of the saddle before the beast came falling down. He got up and struggled against the men for some time. They exchanged blows, and his armour soaked up most of the hits. Jasper could tell that he did not have long left within him to keep fighting. He looked around after the final of the four did not get back up. The battlefield was filled with men fighting, dying and bleeding everywhere.

He looked around for his men but could not find them. He moved forward, and found someone to fight. They exchanged blows, his legs were soon giving way, but he managed to remain upright for a time. Bleeding, breathing heavily, he lost his mace, picked up a sword and fought on. Swords were much more unwieldly compared to maces, they had to have a firm grip to prevent them moving too much. Jasper had never liked them. Yet here he was, exchanging blows with someone who was likely another knight who had abandoned him and the true cause. He took another breath, took a blow then swivelled. The man fell there and then, blood gushing down onto his helm, he stood there panting and unsure of what to do.

At that moment, a rider appeared before him, dressed in the silver and blue of his house. The man dismounted and bowed. “My lord, I have been looking for you, for some time. There is news from the other side of the field.”

“Speak.” Jasper commanded.

“Lord Corbray is dead, slain by Lord Royce’s hand, Ser Templeton is also dead, killed by an arrow. Their bannermen are ready to surrender, they’ve taken considerable losses.” The knight replied.

“Where are they?” Jasper asked.

“Within the confines of the forest.” The knight replied gesturing to the trees nearby.

“Very well, let us go there.” Jasper said, taking the man’s horse, he rode on to where the man said to go, there he found Royce, Waynwood and Redfort waiting for him, with the rebel lords tied up in chains. “You have done well.” He said to them. He got off the horse and looked at the rebels, extended his mailed hand. One boy leaned forward to kiss it, then another, then another. When they begged his pardon, the call went out for the fighting to stop. The rebellion was not over, not yet.


	74. Edric V

** Chapter 74: Edric V **

****

Heat in the north was unlike anywhere else. Edric had fought during the summers in the Free Cities, in the Disputed Lands and in Slaver’s Bay, he had nearly died in sweat during a campaign in Slaver’s Bay, but there was nothing quite like a northern heat. The north was such a big open space that the heat travelled and grew quite quickly, to the point where one could almost choke on it. Without adequate supplies of water, an army and a village could wither away and die. Thankfully, Edric had thought of that and ensured that they had taken water from the White Knife and purified it through the filtration system that the Lorathi had developed and shown him many years ago.

They had been diverted from White Harbour some time ago, after the battle, and the decoy. To make Beron think that Cregard was dead and that morale was low, they had had to have their man inside Beron’s host  be the one to fight Cregard, and knock him out. When they had collected the bodies afterwards, they had been sure to collect Cregard’s. Once they had been sure that Beron had left, to ensure that his allies further north were secure, Cregard had come to life, and they had begun their march again. Beron had headed toward Ramsgate as Edric had hoped he would and now he was heading toward Winterfell, though he suspected that Beron would have left a strong host there guarding the pathway. His nephew was no idiot, after all.

Now, Winterfell stood there before them, he could see its towers in the distance, but between him and his home was an army. He looked through the looking glass and spotted Dustin, Glover, Wull, Norrey and Harclay banners. Not enough to out number his host, who were mainly men of the Company of the Rose.  The rebel lords, Karstark, Hornwood-his heir was a smart man- and Bolton were split between this host and fighting at Ramsgate and elsewhere. Manderly was keeping storage supplies in White Harbour for the eventual winner, he had always known the man was smart. He ordered his men to stop their march, as he assessed the scene before him. The enemy had dug trenches, hidden underneath foliage that the heat had reduced to nothing. No doubt they would try to set fires and cause chaos if they charged. Edric knew that they would need to draw them out away from their trenches.

“Bring the boy.” Edric commanded. There was a ruffling then a boy, aged twelve, the nephew of Lord Dustin, and the cousin of Lord Harclay was brought and placed before Edric. “Run.” Edric whispered to the boy, who started running as quickly as he could. Edric signalled to his archers who prepared their arrows. He wasn’t going to fire, but the indication would be enough. Sure enough, Lord Dustin ordered something from far away, and the infantry were charging over their trenches toward him. “Fire.” He commanded and the arrows were unleashed, hitting the foot soldiers, when they had released enough arrows, he called a stop. Took his hammer and prayed, then spurned his horse forward for war.

His hammer connected with someone, some youth who thought he could bring Edric down. The thought was almost cute, but then Edric knew that this was some lad who he would likely need to rule over once this was all done and dusted, and therefore the smile disappeared from his face. His hammer did most of the work, functioning as if on automatic, there was someone else leading the way, as far as Edric knew, he did not really have to think what to do, it just happened. Men charged at him and they fell, others rammed into him and they too fell. His hammer had a spike on the end, something Serena said made him look like some sort of God. That had made him laugh. He continued through the fighting, allowing his body to dictate the pace. The enemy were swarming around him, but they were falling just as badly as others who had tried to make amends with him before.

All the while they fought and Winterfell got closer into view. Edric could almost smell the peat and the fire, the signs of a home he had not known for twenty years. He would take it back. He knew he would. He fought hard, pushing through the enemy, and slaughtering them against the back of the fire that had grown. It seemed one of the commanders had panicked and had lit the torches for the trenches. “Push them back!” Edric roared. Burn them and they would surrender. He watched and helped fight the tide, as it came swarming like a great herd of ants, pushing them back to where they had come from. He killed one man, smashed his head in so badly that the man’s skull did quite literally split open. He knew that that was a sight he would not forget any time soon.

Cregard was at his side then, and they were exchanging ideas, or rather communicating through hand signals. His son led a detachment one way, he continued forward, pushing through the heat which was being made worse by the fires that had been lit. He wanted something to drink, quite desperately but he knew that such a thing was not available right now. He kept his thoughts tempered, pushing through the darkness and into a different system. His hammer continued being his guide, taking down the enemy one step at a time. The fires were shrinking, and he felt rain hitting him, that was a relief. Eventually, after some time the enemy stopped. They threw down their weapons and one man was brought before him.

Edric removed his helm and handed it to his squire. The man kneeling before him had a crop of brown hair, streaked with white. One eye was missing seemingly taken during this fight or an earlier one. Someone whispered the man’s name in his ear. “Lord Dustin, I presume.”

The man looked at him and sighed. “You have my fealty, my lord.” the man whispered.

“It is not your fealty I want. I want the keys to my home.” Edric replied.

Lord Dustin blinked. “That, I can give you.”

 


	75. Ser Jeremy

** Chapter 75: Ser Jeremy **

****

“The situation continues to improve, day by day. Every time they ride out to fight, they come back with fewer men. The fewer men they have when we finally unleash the corps will show them that we are not to be trifled with. There is much to be gained by expending slightly more effort to get them to exercise more strength in the Westerlands and the Vale. Especially now that Lord Jasper has experienced some taste of victory, there is a risk that he might well gather momentum. Though the death toll might be enough to limit him.” That was Lord Bulwer, Jeremy listened, digested the information then replied.

“The Vale is an area that will fight itself and then blinker out, it is not a big enough area to justify expending so much energy on. It would be better to focus on the Westerlands, and the North. To ensure that Edric Stark does not declare independence, and to ensure that Gerold Lannister understands where things are coming from now. Otherwise, the status quo will remain and we shall all be sunk.” That was something Jeremy had thought about for a long time and he was determined to see it implemented.

“So, are we to simply allow the Vale, the home of the Prince of Dragonstone’s mother to simply rally around Lord Arryn? You know the longer he stays out in the field, and has time to fight and prove himself, the harder it will be for our plan to come to fruition. There will be times when things do not end with his defeat, as his victory earlier this year showed. We cannot simply let the Vale go back to him, we must find another solution.” Bulwer demanded.

Jeremy sighed. “My lord, you forget that the Vale has always been a Targaryen stronghold, during the first Blackfyre rebellion the Vale fought for the Bastard not for King Daemon. Therefore, whatever grievances we have been able to stoke now, will not last for very long. Indeed, I would not be surprised if they stopped fighting within the next moon or so. That is why I suggest we focus on  the Westerlands and the North where there are people with legitimate grievances against the Targaryens as well as their overlords. Tarbeck has managed to recapture some of the mines, thus lessening the need for us to continue funding him, and Edric Stark has taken Winterfell, therefore, we have a chance.”

Lord Bulwer sighed, but did not say anything else, the man’s obsession with the Vale had never made any sense to Jeremy, but he was glad that that discussion was over. It allowed him to turn to Lord Appleton who spoke then. “We have received word from the Iron Bank. They are willing to continue investing in both Lord Tarbeck and Edric Stark for another two to three years if they must. Already they are seeing a return on their investment. The Mines that Tarbeck seized have allowed him to repay the debt and make a profit at the same time. Whilst Edric Stark has insured his company’s base and as such they continue to make money from that. I feel now would be the right time to write to Ser Haegon and ask that he come and take advantage. We have already had the rebellion going for two years, any longer and the opportunity might be missed.”

“Agreed, it is unfortunate that the Volanteene decided to attack the Golden Fields whilst the initial stages of this war were going. Had they not done so, King Daemon would be sitting the throne right now. I shall send a letter to Ser Haegon and ask him to bring the Company to the fore alongside the other men that he has brought to the Blackfyre side.” Jeremy said. “I believe that we must look to putting more pressure elsewhere as well, so that there is no let up.”

“The lords within the Reach are obviously beginning to chafe under Lord Tyrell, we all know why, but of course, we need to get the Riverlords to settle their feud, or rather get Bracken and Blackwood fighting again. Otho Bracken remains in the Black Cells, alongside Aegor, his brother rules in his place, and he is no less favourable to the Blackwoods or to Bloodraven. I think that perhaps he would be the right person to approach. Alongside Lord Frey, the man would have the right sort of attitude to carry on a harassment campaign of the Mallisters given their land dispute.” Lord Appleton said.

“Agreed. Lord Frey is your cousin is he not?” Jeremy asked, Lord Appleton nodded. “Write to him, tell him what is on offer for his services and then approach the others within the Reach to get things going.” Lord Appleton nodded, Jeremy then turned to Lord Emmon Cuy and asked. “What word do you have from our friends in the capital?”

“The timing is getting closer, for the winged horse to fly free. Bloodraven is in disfavour at court for trying to prevent the marriage of Aelora Targaryen and Aerion Targaryen. The marriage itself has been received relatively favourably, but there are some at court who wish for some sense. As such, our friends are getting ready to release the prisoners.” Lord Cuy replied.

“Good, and they know what must be done once they are free?” Jeremy asked.

“Yes, they know precisely what must be done.” Lord Cuy replied.

“Good.” Jeremy said. “Now, if there is nothing else that must be discussed, I think the time has come for us to part and prepare for the next part of the plan. Until next time, gentlemen.” With that he rose and walked out of the room. Once he was within his own chambers, he locked the door and said. “So, what did you think?”

A hooded figure, with a hawk mask on their face appeared. “Cuy is loyal, but Bulwer might let his obsession with the Vale get the better of him. I think you should handle him first and appoint his brother as Lord.”

“I can only do that with the King’s permission.” Jeremy responded.

The figure moved closer and embraced him before taking of their mask and kissing him, when they pulled away they whispered. “I can get that done easily enough, my love.”


	76. Donnor I

** Chapter 76: Donnor I **

****

Donnor felt his horse shuddering underneath him. They had received a report that Winterfell was under attack, Father had marched on ahead with three thousand men, leaving some three thousand men under his command. Donnor had been both honoured and a little terrified that Father trusted him so much with this. Edgar Condon was his sub commander and his advisor, and so they had ridden hard from Ramsgate, where they had destroyed a small host under the command of Lord Locke, and they were now riding for Winterfell as well. Though from what Donnor could make out, they would be facing opposition in the form of a host commanded by Torrhen Stark, the son of Edric Stark, the rival for Winterfell.

Aregelle had told him much about Torrhen, how he was quiet and thoughtful, somewhat slower than Cregard, the older of her brothers. But still just as dangerous, someone who could bring force and might and wit to the battle. Donnor knew not to underestimate him, and as they were gathering their forces, he had even spied him giving a speech or two to his men. Donnor felt his horse shift, and moved accordingly, his weapon moving with him, the fighting had started almost immediately. The Broken Branch’s stream flowing on the other side, somewhere in the distance. The war would end somewhere, Donnor was sure of that.

The first clash of battle had brought his nerves jangling to the surface. He had barked his orders and Condon had seen them executed. His weapon had crushed some poor boy’s face- the boy had been no older than Willam- and so Donnor had slain another man. Another man had come then, the boy’s father, and they had fought, Donnor had barked his commands during the fight, the boy’s father had died as well. His wounds taking their toll on him. There had been others as well, and some had injured Donnor, digging into his armour, and denting it somewhat as well. It had all happened so very quickly that he was not sure whether or not he was dreaming or not.

All Donnor knew was that he had to keep going, to stop would be to endanger the men and to endanger his family. That was not something he could do. And so he galloped alongside his men, his horse sweating in the unbearable heat, pushing through and dancing and slashing. Doing everything he could to remain upbeat, fighting through the pain that got attached to him as the blows continued to grow. Sweat dripped down and covered him in its entirety. Still he kept fighting. There was no honour is surrendering, Donnor had always known that. He watched some boy on his side get cut down, and the vultures swooped in and pecked him out entirely.

Donnor moved away from the vision, he blinked and continued onward. His guards were at his side always, his companions throughout all of this. Young men from Ryswell, Dustin, Cerwyn, Cassel, Condon and the mountain clans, all of them his sworn swords. He fought and they fought and they kept going, pushing the boundaries of what they could and could not do. Trying desperately to keep everything going. His wounds were starting to ache. His weapon was drenched in blood, but on he went, never stopping. The ground was littered with bodies now, there was nobody else but the two armies remnants fighting one another.

Donnor could not see Torrhen Stark, the man had disappeared somewhere during the fighting. From what Aregelle had told him, if she could be believed that was, Torrhen would be fighting in the centre or the rear, waiting for the right moment to strike, and when he did deploy, things would get very messy for Donnor. The goal, had therefore been to stop that from happening. To cut off the enemy from one another the Broken Branch had provided the right cover for that, and so they had gone on, pushing themselves with everything they had. It was exhausting, but truthfully Donnor did not want the fighting to stop, worried as he was that something might happen to him.

There was a knock on his leg and he screamed with the pain, but during the noise and fracas of the battle, no one would hear the heir to Winterfell’s scream of pain. He buried the pain and kept going. He killed the man responsible, and hoped he wouldn’t bleed to death. He pushed and pushed, going as far as he felt able, without stretching his leg too much, it was his right leg, that was not going to be good when the fighting was finished. He sighed, but he still kept going. There were a lot of them, or rather there had been a lot of them, but now Torrhen Stark’s forces were depleting, reducing themselves to nothingness.

The fighting continued for another few moments, or was it hours? He was not sure he knew what was going on anymore, between the pain in his leg, the wounds he had sustained and everything else, it was just a struggle to try and keep himself upright. And yet somehow he managed that, pushing himself to his limits. He killed more and more men, good men, strong men, and he felt the guilt and grief of all of that chipping away at him, leaving him with nothing but a sharp ache in his chest. Eventually, when they threw down their swords and surrendered, he cheered himself. He slid down, and the words were exchanged with his commanders, the dead were taken to be burned, and those alive were to be dealt with courteously, there was one man who was brought before him in chains.

“Your father is finished.” The man said. “He has walked right into a trap. Winterfell is ours.”

Donnor had the man executed and then hurried off to meet his father. He would not suffer another loss, not again, though as his mind raced, he remembered that there was every chance his father was already dead.


	77. Lorra III

 

** Chapter 77: Lorra III **

****

 

Lorra thought only of her children as she looked at the man sat opposite her. Lord Bolton’s eyes were cold, and there was no warmth in them, and there was no hate either, just simply curiosity. It was unnerving to say the least. Bolton had come with his men, and the men of Edric Stark and taken Winterfell, being left in charge of the castle, whilst her husband’s uncle went to fight her husband. Lorra watched him, saw his movements and thought of her children, of Willam’s defiance, of Alysanne’s stubbornness, of Rodrik’s softness, and she bit her tongue.

“You know, my lady, things would be a lot easier for you, if you simply complied with what Lord Edric wanted. Your sons hold no claim to Winterfell now, but your daughter can be used as a peace tool. It would spare the need for much more fighting.” Bolton said, his voice deceptively soft.

“And why should I believe a word either you or your master say?” Lorra replied. “After all, your lord said that the marriage between my Donnor and his daughter Aregelle was suitable enough for him. You swore an oath to my husband and you broke it. Your words mean nothing.”

Lord Bolton did not smile, but his mouth did this weird thing where it raised and then lowered itself, almost as if it were doing it of its own volition. “Then I am afraid that you are a fool, and an idiot. And not someone who should be serving as Lady of anything, let alone Lady of Winterfell.”

Lorra bit back the retort, and instead decided to ask something she had long been wondering. “Why are you supporting my husband’s uncle? He is a Stark, and more than that, he is a Stark who has raised his children outside of the north. He spent the last fifteen years outside of the north, before he returned here. He knows little of the ways of the people, and his company grew up in Essos. Why then, do you support them? Surely you would have gained more by simply declaring independence?”

Bolton did something she had not expected, he laughed. He laughed so much his stomach moved, then he stopped, and his expression became serious once again. “If I were my grandfather, then your estimation would have been right. I would have broken off from Winterfell completely and declared myself King of the Dreadfort, and taken up the crown and used the walls of the Dreadfort to protect myself and my family. But I am not my grandfather, I am not my father either. I am simply someone who believes Lord Edric will deliver on something the Starks have failed to deliver for some time.”

“And what is that?” Lorra asked, though she thought she had a good idea of what it might be.

“A free north, protected from the strife and issues of the south. Without the need to pay taxes to some foreigner who does nothing but use the money for books and for other such nonsense. We are a people built on war and on the land, we do not need books, nor do we need such luxuries as the south demands we pay for. Lord Edric promises to take us back to our roots, and to ensure that the ways of our ancestors are protected, and that we never again have to deal with the ignorance of the south again.” Lord Bolton said, and for a brief moment, Lorra saw the hope within his words, the naïve young man hiding behind the cold mask of the Lord of the Dreadfort.

“Edric Stark fought for Daemon Blackfyre during the first Blackfyre rebellion,” Lorra pointed out. “He knew that there would never be an independent north during that time. And I think he knows that now. You are being had, my lord. You and the others like you, you are being played to give Edric Stark what he wants. When he sits where my husband should sit, he would play you all for fools.”

Lord Bolton was about to reply, when a messenger wearing the red of House Bolton entered, and whispered in his ear. Bolton nodded, dismissed the man, then turned to look at her. “It seems that you might just be about to serve a purpose after all. Come with me, my lady.” He rose, and forced her to rise, they walked through the corridor out on to the walls, where her hands were tied, she tried to protest but the men holding her were too strong. They were led to the edge, and there she saw Beron mounted on his stallion, drenched in blood. “Beron Stark, I see you have returned.”

“Untie my wife, and leave my castle, and I might let you live, Bolton.” Beron replied.

Lord Bolton laughed. It was a chilling sound. “Let me see that you have brought Lord Edric here unharmed, and I might consider letting your wife and children go free.”

Beron looked as if he might snarl, she wanted to say something, but she suspected that anything she might say would be used to abuse her husband, so she kept her mouth shut. “Are you okay Lorra?” Her husband asked.

“Yes.” Lorra replied. Trying to convey her suspicions in that one word.

Beron nodded. “Bring the man forward.” Edric Stark was brought forward in chains, one eye missing, the other incredibly bloodied.

“Now, let him go.” Bolton said. She felt something press against her.

“Let my wife go first.” Beron said.

“Beron!” She shouted as the knife pressed against her throat. “Beron!” She screamed as the knife came across her throat in one swift motion.

“LORRA!” Beron screamed, she heard him as she was pushed and as she fell. She heard Bolton say.

“It was only fair, for what your father did to my mother.” There was a roar, and then she felt something else, hands she turned and saw Beron there looking at her.

“I….love….you.” Lorra whispered as the cold seeped in.


	78. Beron IX

** Chapter 78: Beron IX **

****

Beron was tired, his body was broken, his bones were screaming for relief, and he knew that the fight that had preceded this had taken a lot from him. And yet there he was, watching as Bolton held his wife and talked. Beron wanted to string the man up and kill him, but he indulged in his game.

“Now, let him go.” Bolton said, meaning Edric Stark, the man without an eye, the man who Beron had been tempted to kill.

“Let my wife go first.” Beron replied, fighting the desire to snarl.

“Beron!” His wife shouted, Beron blinked and saw something pressing against his wife’s throat. “Beron!” Lorra screamed. Beron saw something he couldn’t quite believe, the knife came and then Lorra was falling.

“LORRA!” He screamed, rushing forward.

“It was only fair, for what your father did to my Mother.” Bolton said. Beron ignored him and rushed to Lorra.

“Lorra, Lorra, stay with me, stay with me, please sweetling!” Beron begged, cradling his wife in his arms.

His wife looked at him, whether she could actually see him or not, he didn’t know, but there she was, looking at him, her hand stretched out and he took it. “I…love…you.” His wife said.

“I love you, Lorra, please stay with me.” Beron begged feeling tears drip down his face. His wife didn’t move, he leaned down and could not hear her breathing. He screamed into the vacant space that she had left, screamed and demanded justice. He looked up at Bolton, saw the man’s smug look and swore. “I will kill you and your family for this.” He called out for aid, and watched as the men took his wife’s body away from where she had fallen, he got up, his heart aching. He moved toward where Edric Stark stood the man looked at him.

“Nephew, you know I had nothing to do with this. We can work something out.” Edric said.

Beron looked at his uncle and said. “You are no family of mine.” He drew his sword, and with one swift motion killed his uncle, ignoring his pleas. He moved forward, roaring. “Open the gate!” His men moved forward with the battering ram he had ordered constructed. It took just two hits to break the gate open. He walked in, his men following behind him. Bolton was on the wall still, he could see him. Beron killed two men, and then wounded a third. He kept going, Lorra’s lifeless body the only motivation he needed.

Bolton was stood where he was, with archers at his side, he heard the man give a command. Then there were arrows being released, they were coming down at him and his men. Some died, others were injured. The arrows missed him, one or two hit him, and then he killed another man that had Bolton colouring. He made his way up the steps toward where Bolton was. Beron could feel the arrows buried in his leather, they were starting to draw blood. Beron continued though, Lorra’s body lying sprawled across the floor a piercing image in his mind. He killed more men, watching as they fell, the arrows came flying through. They were truly starting to get on his nerves.

Bolton looked at him, Beron simply stood there. Arrows buried in his leather. “You will die for what you have done.” Beron said. “For everything, the rebellions, the murder, especially the murder. You have broken every vow you have ever sworn and as such you are no longer allowed to keep anything within the north. Kneel and you might go north to the wall, and that is it.”

Bolton snorted. “I have your children under guard. If I die, they will die. You know that don’t you, Beron? You have always known that.”

Beron simply sighed. “My men are already dealing with your men. Bolton you know that you cannot win. Therefore, I want to know why you betrayed me and your vows. Why did you side with Edric Stark?”

Bolton said nothing for a moment, then responded. “I believe Winterfell has broken its vows. You were getting us involved in wars in the south. You were taking things from us to send southwards. We were gaining no benefit from this. Our fathers, brothers and sons were dying. It was time to break free.”

Beron sighed. “So, you decided to commit treason? You and your father have doomed your family to extinction. You know that don’t you? I cannot spare you or anyone else in your family. I will have to finish what my ancestors started all those years ago.” That was not something he wanted to do, but it would have to be done. Treason could not be allowed to stand.

Bolton laughed. “You see, this is where you have fallen down. You have killed Edric Stark, you have become a kinslayer. If you kill me and survive, you will not be followed. Half the north has abandoned you, and the other half is soon to follow. Cregard Stark lives as well, and he will never let you win.”

Beron said nothing, he merely advanced forward, with his sword drawn. Blood dripped down on to the ground. Bolton moved forward as well, they exchanged blows, backed away, the moved closer together to resume. A mixture of parries, blocks and counter swings brought everything full circle. Things were kept interesting by the fact that Beron was constantly losing blood as he fought. He could see it moving to the ground. With slash and a hook he disarmed Bolton, then as quickly as he could he fell forwards and buried his weapon into Bolton. He stepped back and watched Bolton fall. An arrow hit him then, then another, then another, a final arrow hit him. He laughed as he fell. “Gods be praised, let the fire and ice destroy you all.” He closed his eyes and said aloud. “I will see you soon Lorra.”


	79. Donnor II

** Chapter 79: Donnor II **

****

Donnor rode as quickly as his horse would allow. There was something in his head that wouldn’t go away, something that Torrhen Stark had said. He kept going his wounds not slowing him down in the least. He could not allow something to happen his family, if Winterfell had fallen, terrible things would happen. There always had to be a Stark in Winterfell, and he did not think that Edric Stark was a Stark, hell the man and his family weren’t northerners either. Winterfell came into sight and he stopped his horse when they got to the gates, slowed it down to a trot and then they got through the gateway, and he got off his horse. There were bodies all over the place, arrows buried in the ground.

He dismounted and was greeted by a man he recognised as Lyonel Poole. “My lord, thank goodness you have come. Please follow me, you are needed!”

Donnor nodded and followed the man. “What happened here, Lyonel?” He asked.

The man looked at him and said. “Lord Bolton and Edric Stark took Winterfell, they held your family hostage, and then Edric Stark and Lord Beron fought one another. Lord Beron killed Edric Stark, and Lord Bolton, but he is very badly wounded.”

Donnor nodded he had guessed as much. “And my brothers and sisters? And my mother? Where are they?”

Something strange passed over Poole’s face then, but he said. “They are with your father.” They walked quickly, turning this way and that, Donnor was aware that he was covered in blood and mud, and was sure to get told off by Mother. He pushed that thought to the side as they got to his father’s room. Lyonel bowed, Donnor entered and rushed to his father’s side.

“Father, I am here.” Donnor said. His brothers and sisters were there, they turned to him with their eyes red and their cheeks stained with tears.

“Donnor…” his father said. “How went the battle?”

“Well, I executed Torrhen Stark and sent his army running.” Donnor replied. He looked around and asked. “Where is Mother?”

Berena cried then, and Willam had to take her out of the room. Donnor looked around and couldn’t see Mother, that was very strange, Mother would never have allowed them be here without her. Father coughed, and then said. “Your Mother is not here anymore.”

“She left?” Donnor asked. “Mother would never leave.”

Father laughed, and blood bubbled up to the surface. “Your mother did not leave in that sense, lad.” Father coughed. “She died. Bolton murdered her, he slit her throat right in front of me. Her body is being taken for burial.”

Donnor felt a blow come to him then, Mother dead? It could not be. Mother dead? Just, how? He looked at Artos, who was stood stoically at the side. His younger brother nodded. Donnor wanted to cry, he fought down the tears and knelt at his father’s side. “Are you going to live or die?” He asked, it was a crass question he knew, but he needed the answer now, his father seemed to understand.

“I am not going to live beyond this afternoon. You are now going to be Lord of Winterfell. You will have to rebuild the north, and you will need to handle Bolton, Karstark, Umber and Hornwood and Manderly. I am sorry that I could not give you a better starting point.” Father replied.

Donnor laughed. “I will have to deal with Cregard Stark first.”

Father laughed as well. “Aye, I did not quite get to him. I think the little shit ran away.” Father coughed again, and then said. “But apart from that you must decide on who you will marry and how you will raise your brothers and sisters.”

Donnor nodded. “Do you think Aregelle should be my wife?” He could not see Aregelle in the room, he wondered where she was, or if she had run away.

Father snorted. “I do not know, lad. I think it would help mend things, with her sister and her sister’s husband. But I do not know what else she brings. If I were you, I would find her and kill her, so no one else can use her.”

Donnor sighed. “I see.” His father closed his mouth and shut his eyes for a time, and they listened to him breathing. Donnor looked at Artos. “Tell one of the guards to find Aregelle and bring her here. And tell Willam and Berena to come back in.” His brother nodded, Donnor suspected that the lad would be happy to leave the room once Father was gone.

As they sat in silence, Donnor took a moment to think about the war. It had been going on for two years now, when it had started he had been seventeen, and now he was nineteen and he had seen more fighting than he would ever like anyone else to see. His mother was gone, Mother who had always been there with a kind word, and a piece of advice. And father, the man who lay before him, who was always there providing advice, reassurance and strength. The door opened, Willam and Berena entered, followed by Aregelle. Donnor nodded to them, and Father opened his eyes.

“Come close.” Father said, and so the others came, and Father said. “Be good to one another, you are family, and family must protect one another throughout whatever may come. For the lone wolf dies…”

“But the pack survives.” They all said.

Father smiled. “Good, now let me rest. Donnor, I trust you will handle everything.”

Donnor nodded though his worries and concerns fought one another. “I will.” Father smiled and closed his eyes again.

Eventually, after some time, Father stopped breathing, the maester came and said. “He is at peace now.”

Willam, Artos, and their siblings, Aregelle, the members of the household they came and bowed and swore allegiance to him, as father’s body watched over them. Donnor accepted their fealty, knowing a heavy burden rested on him.


	80. Aegor V

 

** Chapter 80: Aegor V **

****

The black cells were filled with darkness, which made sense given their name. Aegor could often hear the tortured screams of those in opposite cells, those who wished and wailed and had done god knew what sort of heinous crime. He was very much convinced that it was because they had angered Bloodraven that they were in there, nothing else. Bloodraven not Aerys ruled, and that had been the case for some time. It made it harder to hate Aerys, with his father, the bastard born Daeron, the man had been good at what he did, minus the Dornish infestation therefore there was a chance for some respect. But Aerys? Aerys relied on that one eyed albino shit, and therefore Aegor could never respect him. He did not know where Daemon was, and frankly he did not care, the boy could be dead.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door to his cell opening. “I have nothing more to give you, Bloodraven.” Aegor said, his bastard half brother had been visiting him and torturing him, for reasons he was not quite sure of. “Leave me be.” His eyes were sore, and his body ached from it all.

“I have not come to question you, Your Royal Highness.” The voice said, it was slightly higher pitched than he had been expecting, and sounded almost feminine.

“Who are you? And what do you want?” Aegor demanded.

“I have come to free you.” The voice said.

Aegor laughed. “What joke is this? Does Bloodraven truly think I am foolish enough to fall for such nonsense?”

The light from the torch shone on him, forcing him to squint. “This is no joke, my Prince. I have come to free you. We must go now.”

Aegor looked at the figure, trying to identify whether it was a man or a woman. “Why should I trust you?” There was a voice in the back of his head telling him not to be foolish but to simply accept this and to go, to get out of this cell. But, he had not survived this long without having some suspicion in him.

The figure moved the torch, allowing some light to fall on their face, Aegor gasped, he had not seen her in years. “Because we are family, and we must ensure that the right rulers end up on the throne.”

Aegor struggled to sit up. “Do you have the keys to remove these?” He held up his hands which were chained.

His saviour whispered something and the chains fell away, freeing his wrists. The chains on his legs fell as well, and he was able to stutter to his feet. “Come, we must go.”

The figure turned and hurried out. Aegor followed, limping slightly. They walked in silence for a time, moving this way and that, down and up, traversing through different elements of the dungeons. Aegor wondered if this was some sort of trap, and if he would find Bloodraven waiting for him at the other side. When they got to the surface, his saviour dimmed the torch and turned. “The King is already waiting for you. Come.”

Aegor nodded, following along as if stuck in some sort of trance, it made no sense to him, but he felt that this was the best option he was going to get, so he might as well go with it. They walked quickly and silently, Aegor found himself wondering where the guards were. Surely they would have noticed he was missing now? He was sure Bloodraven had put something on his cell, some spell or the other, to watch what was happening. He pushed the thought aside and kept going, when they got to a place on the outskirts of the city, the figure stopped. “You must make this journey on your own now, Your Royal Highness.”

Aegor looked at the figure and asked. “Why are you doing this?

“Because we are family, and a long time ago, you helped me. Now go.” The figure said, giving him a little push.

Aegor laughed, turned and walked through a set of gates, before stopping. There waiting for him was a brown horse, similar to the one on his mother’s coat of arms. The King was there, mounted and waiting. He looked as if he’d been kept well and healthy. He had the beginnings of a beard. “Your Majesty.” Aegor said bowing.

“Uncle, come let us go.” The King said, there was a hardness in the boy’s voice that had not been there before. Aegor did as his King commanded and mounted his horse, they took a moment to get accustomed to one another, before the King moved his horse forward, Aegor followed, the King paused then set off. Aegor followed.

King’s Landing soon disappeared, as they rode, Aegor noticed the countryside, there was a silence about it that set his nerves on edge. “Where are we going?” He asked.

“Appleton, we have friends waiting for us there.” The King replied.

Aegor nodded, the Appletons had supported no one during the first war, he wondered what had changed their minds. He kept the thought to himself, and they rode. On that first day they stopped at a little Inn where they learned that the Westerlands were burning with war, that the Stormlands were crumbling and that Dorne was tearing itself apart. Aegor wanted to laugh, but kept his thoughts to himself. The next day they rode without stopping until they got to Tumbleton. There they learned more, there was fighting in the north, and supposedly the Starks were all dead. That worried Aegor, but again he said nothing.

They reached Appleton some three to four days after leaving King’s Landing, by that point the word had gotten out and there had been search parties out looking for them both. They had hidden in bushes and brambles, in inns and other such places. Even in a whorehouse at one point. They reached Appleton, and there was a man there waiting for them. He was short, bald and fat, grossly so. He bowed. “Welcome. Please, my lord is waiting for you.”

They followed the man and ended up in a solar which had pictures of apples, trees and burning bushes. A man with silvery grey hair stood and greeted them. “Welcome, to Appleton Your Majesty.” The man bowed and kissed the King’s hand, then straightened and turned to Aegor. “We can begin now that you are here.”


	81. Aegon VII

** Chapter 81: Aegon VII **

****

The past two years had been nothing but war. The Westerlands were a land he knew more of than perhaps Summerhall. His body bore the scars of countless battles, and nights sleeping on the floor or hard ground. No longer did he shave his hair, allowing it to grow, silver and gold in the sun. Aegon knew that there were worse things to face, he had seen the aftermath of the Battle of the Pink after all, and the carcasses and the vultures had left an impression on him that he was not like to forget any time soon. And yet, and yet, he found that this was growing tiresome.

Anger at his uncle, the King and at Bloodraven for allowing this to get to where it was continued to permeate. He did not know why they had allowed and perhaps encouraged these idiots who were rebelling, to rebel. What they hoped to gain from doing this he did not know. He did not think it would be anything good, and it would simply lead to more lives lost. Aegon blinked the thoughts away, or at least tried to. He was commanding an army some two thousand men strong, as they marched after the army commanded by Lord Lydden, they were somewhere in the eastern mountains, on the border with the Riverlands, and Aegon found his thoughts straying toward Betha.

Betha Blackwood, with her raven hair and her fierce expressions, her strong determination. Aegon had often found himself thinking of her, wondering what she was doing and if she remembered him. He doubted it though, no doubt there was some handsome young Riverlord, who had taken her fancy and her as his wife. It would make sense after all, he was but a fourth son of a fourth son, with nothing to offer her. He pushed that thought down and continued focusing on the fight that was to come. One of his men signalled that there were people up ahead, he nodded and signalled for the archers to prepare. They had ten archers, the best of the best. He gave the command and they unleashed their arrows.

He heard the cries, the bites of arrows hitting their targets, he heard everything and nothing. Aegon tried to keep any thoughts of distress from his mind, it would do him no good to be in such a state. Instead he kept his mind blank, only listening to what was happening. When the archers stopped firing initially, the commander looked to him. Aegon shook his head, took his Morningstar and gave the command. His men followed him through the passageway, and into the enemy lines. There they found Lydden and his host standing strong and waiting for them. the battle as it began was bloody and ferocious. Within moments Aegon was drenched in blood.

The smell was what got him, it always did. Putrid, rotting corpses, shit, sweat, piss, and vomit, all of it mixed together, at the worst possible moments to hit you in the face. Just daring you to vomit. Just daring you to do any number of things. Frankly it was quite aggravating. Aegon fought hard to keep his stomach in order, and a quick glance at Dunk and he felt reassured. The big man was an expert in combatting such a thing. And had even told him during his first proper battle “take a deep breath, hold it, and then let it out.” Something that he had done countless times since. He did it again now, fighting against the urge to spill his guts into his helmet. Another man fell, and Aegon observed positions.

Lord Lydden’s men were grouped together, cowering, bleeding and dying. They did not have the advantage, they had nothing but the ability to fight and die. Lord Lydden himself was nowhere to be seen. Aegon would not be surprised if the man had either died or fled, the word from the prisoners they had taken was that Lydden wasn’t the bravest of men. His experience during these past two years was that it was always the cowards who made their men risk their lives unnecessarily. He saw an enemy coming, readied his morning star, only to see the man trip and fall in a puddle of blood. He got trampled on by a horse later on. It was almost comical watching this happening, but Aegon resisted the temptation to laugh and instead moved his horse forward, his men following him.

Overhead, eagles screeched, and crows cawed, it was the setting of some sort grim story from legend. Briefly, Aegon wondered where Aemon was and what he was doing. His older brother had always had an affinity for stories with birds. He hoped wherever he was that he was safe and secure. Aegon swung his Morningstar and sighed, his arms were beginning to ache, his body was taking blows, and really, it was too damned hot to do anything. Still they kept fighting, it appeared that the rebels did not see sense. They either wanted to die, or they were serving as a distraction. One of the two, and Aegon’s mind began whirring with the thoughts over this.

They kept fighting, pushing through, the enemy was growing weaker, dancing through their graves, and trying to keep themselves up and ready, there was nothing for them to do. Aegon’s Morningstar was covered red with blood, slithering through and there was little for him to do to fight the sickness growing within him. Every life he took became imprinted on his memory, refusing to leave, refusing to give him a moment of peace. He wanted it all to stop, but there would be no stopping this. The fools had brought the war on them all. He blinked and stopped, the fighting gradually stopped, and it seemed the enemy was ready to talk.

Men were brought forward, one of them was a young man with black hair and grey eyes, another was older, with silver in his brown hair. He was the one who spoke. “We surrender.”

“Where is Lord Tarbeck?” Aegon asked.

“I don’t know.” The man replied.

Aegon turned around made his way to the campsite, where the wounded would be, barking out instructions for the man to be tended to. Father would want him.


	82. Maekar X

** Chapter 82: Maekar X **

****

The fighting was taking its toll on his body, there were bruises from a year ago which had not yet healed, there were new scars added to the old. It was all part of being a member of the House Targaryen, and fighting like hell to protect the throne which his ancestor had won so many years ago. Maekar took a deep breath. He looked at the two men gathered in the tent with him. Lord Gerold Lannister, a towering giant of a man who’d shown his intellect in ensuring the rebel lords came back to the light, and his son Aegon who had delivered Lord Lydden and his heir to them.

“We’ve been fighting in this place for two years, and only now are we beginning to make improvements. I think that this is a good sign, for it shows that Lord Tarbeck is beginning to lose ground and will not be able to maintain the ludicrous demands that he had previously exerted on those who followed him. With the capture of Lord Lydden we now have a direct look into their mindset. Aegon, how did Lydden describe Tarbeck’s thinking?” Maekar said.

Aegon had grown tall and muscular during the course of this war and smart as well, his campaign against Lydden had earned him much praise. “He said that Tarbeck tended to rely on the advise of his household and another man, who remained cloaked throughout their discussions. There was little in the way of discussion with other lords, other than to give out orders. Lydden admitted that he wanted to fight on only for his own gain and nothing more.”

Maekar nodded. “Did he suggest that that was the case for other lords with Tarbeck as well?” If there was a clear sign that the rebels were dividing amongst their own individual aims, then Maekar could ensure that the bait was stuck out for them.

Aegon took a moment to think, when he did reply his voice was filled with certainty. “I think he was one of the few alongside people like Banefort who considered Tarbeck a fool. Payne however remains dedicated to the rebel cause, and as such from what Lydden told me, he was the one leading things.”

Maekar looked at Lord Gerold who said. “That does not surprise me, Payne has always been a slippery customer. A good soldier and commander. I do not think he will easily surrender, even if Tarbeck does. No doubt he is hoping that the rumours that Haegon Blackfyre and the Golden Company are in Westeros are true, otherwise he is finished.”

“Lord Algood wrote to me three days ago to inform me that he wished to negotiate the terms of his son’s release.” Maekar said then. “It seems that Algood, the man who controls the northern ranges has grown tired of waiting for Tarbeck.” That was a good thing and with the rumours of a Blackfyre rising, they could not have come at a better time. “I do believe however that Doggett and others might stick to Tarbeck for the time being.”

“Doggett is not brave enough to go against Tarbeck now.” Lord Gerold said. “He is someone who relies on Tarbeck gold to keep his extravagant lifestyle going, if he abandons Tarbeck he will not find anything of the sort with me.” Lord Gerold was a proud man and someone who had grown tired of fighting his own bannermen and their avarice.

“Now, we know where Tarbeck is, and know how many men he has with him, we must ensure that we keep him penned in and desperate. Desperate men make mistakes.” Maekar concluded.

“What do you wish for me to do, Your Royal Highness?” Lord Gerold asked.

“Take your men, lead the vanguard, keep to the off road paths and surprise Tarbeck, kill off any lord who fights against you, but if Tarbeck is found amongst them, keep him alive for now.” Maekar said, he wanted the man alive, there were some things he wanted to ask him. “Myself and Prince Aegon shall come with the reserve and the right.” Lord Gerold nodded, bowed and then left, leaving Maekar alone with his son.

After a beat, Aegon asked. “What word has there been from the capital?”

Maekar nodded, he had heard a few things from Bloodraven and even a letter from Aerion who had sent something off before he had been dispatched with the Company of the Cat to the Stormlands. “It appears that Aegor Rivers and Daemon Blackfyre have escaped from King’s Landing’s cells. Bloodraven knows where they are, and he is waiting for them to make a move before doing anything.”

“How did they escape?” Aegon asked, sounding quite surprised.

“Someone helped them, someone who Bloodraven has been crafting as an insider for twenty years.” Maekar said, he would not give the name away, but he knew that it had worked.

“So, what happens now? If the rebels learn that Blackfyre is free, they will declare for him surely?” Aegon asked.

Maekar sighed. “The King has sent Aerion alongside his sellsword company to the Stormlands to pre-empt any danger from the lords who favoured the black dragon during Daemon’s war. As for Blackfyre himself and Bittersteel, I think they are waiting for the Golden Company to arrive. It seems that Haegon Blackfyre was busy destroying Volantis’s army before he could come here.”

“So, that means they are battle ready. What will you do, once Tarbeck is defeated?” Aegon asked.

Maekar sighed. “I will ensure that Lord Gerold is secure upon his seat in the Rock, ensure that Lady Rohanne does not think to renew her son’s house’s alliance with the Black dragon then I shall go where the King commands me.”

Aegon nodded, then asked. “Has there been any word from Daeron or the girls?”

“Daella wrote a few days ago to say they are all well, that Daeron remains sober and has indeed taken up reading through the accounts quite regularly.” Maekar said. He knew that his oldest daughter was the one doing the real ruling, and he knew that in time he would need to arrange a marriage for her.

“That’s good.” His son replied. Maekar nodded then gestured for the meeting to end, he needed to tend to his scars and rest, before they set off.


	83. Aerion XIV

** Chapter 83: Aerion XIV **

****

Aerion looked at the battlefield and sighed. The scene before him was something grim, and nightmarish. Men were killing one another, boys were killing one another. Aerion had fought and killed alongside his men and was now taking a breath. They had been sent to the Stormlands after the crown had received word from Lord Baratheon asking for aid, trying to stop the rebels led by Lord Bolling, a man who had grown arrogant in his old age. Aerion and the Company had been sent out to fight, leaving behind a pregnant Aelora and a world of chaos in the capital.

There was a lot going on there that Aerion did not like. Chaos, blood, monstrosities, the evilness of men was always present in the field of battle. Aerion saw a knight of the Kingsguard cut down three men, one after another, his weapon slick with blood, before turning toward another knight and cutting him in half. Aerion blinked and another man died, he decided he had had enough of waiting around and summoned his corps of men toward the field. Aerion spurred his horse on and swung his Morningstar taking the first enemy out with one blow, then another man disappeared beneath the chaos. A third man fell within the third bout, Aerion felt the blood lust soar.

He moved as one with his horse, his armour clanging, Aerion felt his blood boiling, his weapon sang, men fell before him. He knew that there would need to be direction. Baratheon seemed to be somewhere else, the man was a bit of a drunkard, and a fighter, having once been a great tourney knight, perhaps he had found his calling. Battle was always a way to get one out of a rut. And Aerion thought that Baratheon needed this, more than he did. After all he did not want to be out here fighting, he wanted to be back with Aelora, and with their coming child. Fighting was something that had to be done though.

Aerion danced pass another blow, his weapon came crashing down on the enemy, another came and the same happened. Aerion took a few blows, his armour clanging at the sound, and his chest demanding reprieve from it. As the battle wore on, Aerion wondered whether or not this was a Blackfyre battle or plot. It would not surprise him. From what he knew, the Blackfyres had to rely on others to get things going, as they themselves were not powerful enough to grasp power with their own hands. Aerion wondered if perhaps that could be exploited. No doubt the lords currently fighting the battle were doing it for their own amusement and gain, or where they concerned about the established order.

A big giant of a man came running forward, swinging a hammer. Aerion ducked, blocked and then used the spikes to cut down the man. Another beast came down and Aerion fought it as well, it was definitely an it. Not a man, no man could be that big and hold themselves together. Aerion took several blows to the face and chest. He felt as though his body was beginning to get weak. He wanted to sleep, but he could not leave, he could not sleep. He needed to keep fighting, a good commander could not fight and sleep, they had to stick to their plan and fight awake, and ensure that things were kept within the plan.

Aerion took a moment to get his breath back, he could feel the sweat dropping down his brow, and into his armour. His body ached and screamed with the blows that it had received. He kept pushing on though, giving up was not in his nature. He barked orders out and ensured that his men were marching in order and that they were not breaking apart. The Company was certainly more ordered than the soldiers who were called up for the lords. But there were times when Aerion wondered if they had grown complacent without the constant need for fighting. However, as he watched his men march out and cut down the enemy, he was reassured that things were not as bad as he had first feared.

They swarmed the enemy, and Aerion got some very good blows in, his Morningstar sang as they danced through the enemy. Aerion tried to keep his thoughts on the enemy and yet occasionally his mind would veer off to something else. Something darker, and more sinister. Boys dying, children fading into darkness, bleeding out on the street, mothers and daughters being raped, and disintegrated. It was a terrifying thought and something that spurred him on. He took the hits on his body and kept going. Pushing through, his Morningstar sang, and as such he managed to keep things relatively stable. His men were winning this struggle, and yet something was bothering him. There was something not quite right. It was too easy.

As if on cue, a force of men came hurrying through the cover of the trees and the woods, and they roared their battle cries. “Man the stations, corps 1 to the right!” Aerion bellowed in response. He watched as Lonnel led the corps off to deal with them, he focused his own attention on the enemy ahead. They continued their dance and the fight for some more time. Eventually, the battle began to taper down and Aerion breathed out, then roared and as the final charge began Aerion swore before the gods that he would name his firstborn son after the Gods. The fighting was brutal in this final stage. Aerion felt almost as if he were floating around, the air around him became sparsely dominated and he felt as though he might choke. He recited the prayers and said them all to all the Gods. He hoped that things would go okay, and as the battle entered its final stages he did not know how this was going to end.


	84. Haegon III

** Chapter 84: Haegon III **

****

 

It felt good to be back in Westeros, even if their home, Blackfyre Keep remained a ruin somewhere leagues from them. Haegon had fought back the tears, keeping a solid and straight face as they had landed and then marched under the cover of darkness to Appleton and the waiting allies. Lord Appleton, Daemon and Uncle Aegor had greeted them as had some three thousand men under Appleton and his allies. Not enough to go straight for the throne though Appleton continued to reassure him that there would be more to join them.

Haegon stroked his beard and looked at the map. “The marches of the Stormlands stand in our way, and whilst the spies might report that the men of the marches are fighting against Lord Bolling and his men, we all know that there will be troops who are waiting for something like this to happen. From what Uncle Aegor has told us, Maekar Targaryen will not have allowed his home to go unguarded. It would be nice to take Summerhall, but perhaps we should march into the Riverlands and go from there.”

Lord Appleton spoke then. “I think you are right Your Royal Highness, the Riverlands has been spared the fighting that has plagued the rest of the realm for the past two years, and I know for a fact that there are many who are waiting to fight for their rightful King.”

Haegon looked down at the map again. “We can march north, through the marches and into the Riverlands, then swing right and meet alongside whatever allies we have near the Stoney Sept. That way we can ensure that we have a balance and can restock on supplies.” Haegon looked at Lord Appleton who nodded his approval, he then looked at Aegor Rivers, Bittersteel, the man who had been imprisoned for many years and seemed to have difficulty coping with how much Haegon had grown.

“I think we run the risk of being ambushed by Maekar if we remain in the Stoney Sept.” Aegor said. “The man has as good as defeated the rebels under Lord Tarbeck, the moment he learns of where we are, he will march there and strike.” Aegor looked at Lord Appleton then. “And with our current contingent of men, we would suffer.”

“We have thirteen thousand men and we would have the walls of the Stoney Sept, heavily fortified under a garrison commander who has always been loyal to us,” Haegon pointed out. “Maekar Targaryen would have an army some two thousand strong, which has been fighting for two years, and is tired and lacking pay. I think those are good odds.”

Aegor shook his head. “Maekar Targaryen is not someone to be misjudged. During your father’s war, he managed to hold out against Fireball for three months with one thousand men. He managed to play on the man’s impatience, and he won. At Redgrass he held things together long enough for his brother to come and damage us completely. Yes, this time the fighting has been for longer, but he is still not one to be misjudged.”

Haegon sighed. “Then what do you suggest? We will need to stop somewhere at some point to get more supplies. And we will need to test ourselves before taking the capital.”

Aegor nodded. “We can still go to Stoney Sept, but we cannot stay there for longer than a few days. We must leave within three days of our arrival. That will be more than enough time to get everything we need. As for engaging with an enemy before taking King’s Landing, I have no doubt that some of the crownlords will be sent out to fight us.”

Lord Appleton spoke. “When would you wish to leave, Your Royal Highness? After all, I have received word from Lords Ashford, Amesbury and Hewett that they are going to be arriving here in full strength before the moon is full. Lord Tyrell is too busy trying to stop a possible Ironborn invasion to worry about what his lesser bannermen are doing.”

Aegor seemed to take this in a bad light. “I find it interesting that none of the major Reacher lords have decided to join us. My lord, you wouldn’t happen to know why that is, would you?”

Haegon sighed, he knew what his uncle was doing and he didn’t approve, this would do nothing but breed hostility where there was no need for it. Thankfully, before Lord Appleton could answer, Daemon, or rather the King spoke. “It matters not, once we have marched with Amesbury, Ashford and Hewett men, we shall get the support of others. I know that we shall bring great victories to do father proud.”

The King rarely spoke, but when he did it was usually to deliver statements such as this. Nobody quite knew how to respond to such things and therefore there was always a hint of silence afterwards. Eventually though, Haegon broke the silence. “I think we must give ourselves another two days, to ensure we have everything planned and prepared. Then we must march. Regardless of whether Ashford and company are with us.” He looked at Lord Appleton. “Make sure they get the letter informing them of this.”

Lord Appleton nodded. “Of course, with your permission, I would send this now.”

“Go.” Haegon said, watching as the man bowed and then departed.

Once he was gone, Aegor spoke. “You know, I do not trust him. I’ve spent the past two weeks here, and I’ve not seen anything that suggests that he’s on our side.”

Haegon sighed. “Uncle, he has done everything he can to aid us, he even reassured us after Ser Jeremy disappeared. We cannot antagonise him. Regardless of your own feelings toward him.”

“Is that a command, Your Royal Highness?” Aegor asked, something akin to bitterness in his voice.

“No,” Haegon replied. “It is a request. One which I suggest we all follow.” Aegor Rivers snorted, but bowed his head in acknowledgement all the same.


	85. Jasper II

** Chapter 85: Jasper II **

****

 

The wind hammered down on them, Jasper could feel a chill developing in his bones. This high up in the mountains, everyone was wrapped up in furs. Even though it was the height of summer. They had abandoned their horses’ way down below and had made the journey on foot. The rebels, led by disparate groups of lords and mountain tribesmen were clustered together somewhere near the bridge that long ago been built by his ancestor. Jasper kept his breathing quiet, and urged others to do so with looks and glances here and there. No words were spoken; everyone knew what their role was.

For three years, they had been fighting against the rebels, slowly but surely gaining ground and ensuring that they would not be able to regain strength that they had previously lost. He had burned villages, and storage supplies, all in the name of thwarting enemies of the crown. It had taken him a long time to get to this point, but now here he was, preparing to strike a hammer blow and he truly thought that this was progress. He could feel his beard move in the wind, it was dark brown, a contrast to his blondish hair. He had wondered at that, and had made a note to ask the Maester when he returned.

Jasper knew that he would need to marry as well, once the fighting was done and things had settled down into some sort of normalcy. Sense would dictate marrying one of his bannermen’s sisters or daughters, but to Jasper that was just asking for trouble, as it would give them an excuse to replace him and cause more trouble later on. No, he would need to look for another bridge. But where, he did not know. There were very few options available. As he heard a twitch and a snap, he focused on what was before him. One of his men gestured ahead, and Jasper peered passed him.

In the distance, there were some two hundred or three hundred heavily armoured men, all knights and all with weapons held high. One of them called out. “Lord Arryn, enough of this nonsense. You have been trailing us for weeks now. Let us stop this nonsense and fight. Here and now.”  Jasper looked ahead, and saw that the speaker was a slim man, perhaps his height.

“How do I know you won’t try something or that there aren’t more of you waiting somewhere?” Jasper replied.

The figure laughed. “We are only two hundred strong, my lord. The rest are elsewhere. But we see no reason to keep hiding. We shall fight and then we shall see where things go from there.”

Jasper was not sure if the man was mad, or if he was, for he replied. “Very well, let us begin.” He drew forth his sword, and moved passed the others, the fellow came as well. He was the same height as Jasper, but dressed not in armour as Jasper had first thought but furs. Jasper nodded to the man who wielded an axe and they began their dance.

The man moved to one side and swung, Jasper blocked the blow and used his strength to push the man back. The man stumbled slightly but righted himself eventually. He came charging forward then his axe swinging, it clattered against Jasper’s sword. Jasper leaned forward and headbutted the man, forcing him to stagger backwards, whilst Jasper did the same. The man laughed when he had righted himself and came back for more. This time there was no wild swing, instead the man came and struck Jasper’s hands before moving backwards. Jasper felt the sting, but could do little before the man was on him again.

Jasper was on the backfoot, blocking, ducking, weaving, he was hit a few times, each time the blow stung more than the last. This man, no doubt some tribal leader was a fierce fighter, but there didn’t appear to be a method to their madness. Jasper found some weak spots and exploited them. He leaned left, feinted and drew the man that way before swinging right and cutting an arc across the man’s middle, that brought blood coming out of him. Jasper followed that up with a punch to the man’s cheek. It was not knightly, but truth be told he didn’t care.

The man laughed. “Some knight you are.” The man staggered forward, and swung at him, Jasper took a hit to the head but the man fell in the spot where he had been, bleeding out. That caused the spell that had acted over his men and the other fellow’s men to break. They rushed at one another. Jasper plunged himself back into the fighting, his sword singing as it cut down one man after another. They were tribesmen of that he was sure, which meant that he could perhaps be handling the clans when things were done here.

The fight did not take long, the tribesmen were never the most organised, and here in the mountains they were over confident. Thinking their advantage of knowledge would give them the edge, all it did was weigh them down, as they struggled to understand why their rabid attacks were giving them nothing but pain and hardship. Jasper tried not to laugh as he watched them die, they were his people after all even if they didn’t like admitting to it. Eventually, the fighting died down and Jasper grabbed one of the few survivors to ask him. “Where are the rest?”

The survivor, a boy no older than Jasper’s brother Donnel, spattered and then said. “Three leagues north. They are waiting for you.”

Jasper nodded. “Slit his throat.” He commanded as he threw the boy to one of the men. He stopped, caught his breath and looked ahead. Either there were more tribesmen ahead, or there were rebel lords. Either way, things were going to finish here and now. He was done fighting his own people.

 


	86. Maekar XI

** Chapter 86: Maekar XI **

****

Maekar was reluctant to admit it, but he was tired. Not just the sort of tired where one wanted to sleep, but the sort of tired where one wanted to curl up into a ball and never get up again. That was how tired he was, and though he worried about what it meant for the future, he knew that could not think about that now, he had other greater issues to worry about. Mainly the battle that was unfolding before him. They had found Lord Tarbeck and his allies near the base of lion’s mount on the border with the Riverlands, and after some negotiation a site for the battle had been agreed. Maekar had given Aegon command of the Van as his son had wanted, and was now waiting for the moment to plunge into battle himself.

That was a change. Twenty years ago, even ten years ago he would have commanded the van and would have brooked no argument otherwise. But he was older, wiser, and he knew how to plan a formation around others now. During Daemon’s rebellion, he had been young and hot headed, now he was calmer, collected and ready to operate. He watched from atop his horse as Aegon’s van smashed into Tarbeck’s van again and again. He could see his son, a red plume in his helmet, slashing and cutting down men. A sense of pride at that came to him. Aegon could hold himself well, and had a good head on his shoulders, perhaps that was more down to the giant at his side than Maekar.

As another man fell before his son, Maekar decided that the time was right. “Prepare the men.” Maekar commanded, the word was passed down the line, as one the infantry came, their shields and weapons in sync with one another. Maekar took a moment then drew his mace forward. “Forward.” He barked, he moved and the men moved. The result of three years of fighting. They came down at the same moment that the part of Tarbeck’s host that was meant to stop him came forward. They clashed in one mess of fighting, blurs, blood and death. Maekar killed one man, a infantryman, and then another. A knight came barrelling down, only to slip in the mud, his horse taken down.

Maekar moved through the throng, Ser Donnel of Duskendale, the Kingsguard knight with him following behind. A white shadow, that was welcome in the darkness. Maekar pushed through the throng of bodies, fighting against the urge that always struck him during the fight. He would not be sick, such a thing would be an insult to himself, and to the men he was leading. Only lesser men threw up. His mace did the talking for him, battering others to pieces. Littering the ground with their corpses. Maekar took no pleasure in killing his brother’s subjects but it was necessary.

Another man came hurtling toward him, and another man followed him, after that. Maekar met both men with blows, one to the forehead, another to the neck. They both fell, and neither survived the crush that came with being part of the melee. He moved on, his armour getting heavier and dirtier with the greater amount of bodies that fell to the ground. Tarbeck had fewer men then them, that much their scouts had been able to identify, but as Lord Gerold had said, that was no guarantee that victory would be assured, for the Lion’s Mount was a difficult and treacherous place to travel, let alone fight in.

Rocks fell, and hit men, on both sides, the Seven did not seem to care who they took out. Maekar kept his horse away from the edges of the field, knowing that one step in the wrong direction and they would be finished. He took a breath, watched as the enemy seemed to shrink and retract, then he pushed onward, another few men fell before him, his mace singing at the blood it took. The fighting continued for a few more moments, perhaps hours, and then stopped, when a shout went up. Maekar hurried fearing the worst, only to find Aegon standing over Lord Tarbeck’s dead body his young son covering it.

“Take the body away, and take him to the command area.” Maekar barked. The boy doesn’t protest, indeed Maekar’s not even sure the boy knows much of anything now. Aegon complies, Maekar makes his way back to the tents further away from the battlefield, leaving it to Lord Gerold to sort out his bannermen. Everything passes in a daze, he is not dressed in armour, but in normal riding clothes when the new Lord Tarbeck is presented to him. “What is your name?” He asked the boy.

“Walderran, Your Royal Highness, I was named for my father.” the boy, Walderran replied.

“Tell me Walderran, do you wish to remain as Lord Tarbeck, and to keep the lands your father and grandfather, and ancestors have ruled for centuries?” Maekar asked, knowing that Lord Gerold would haggle with Aerys or Bloodraven over this and not really caring.

“Yes, Your Royal Highness.” The boy replied.

“Then you will come with us to King’s Landing, and present your case to the King.” Maekar said. The boy says nothing, but Maekar does not much care, he got up and left the boy sat there. He returned to his tent and poured himself a cup of wine, fighting back the images of the battlefield and the stench of war. At some point, Aegon comes to stand before him.

“There has been movement in the south.” His son said. Maekar looked at his son, feeling his body groan at the thought of inevitable battle. “The Golden Company has been sighted alongside rebel armies of the Reach. They are heading to King’s Landing.”

Maekar rose. “Prepare the army, we march at once.” Aegon nodded, orders were given, Maekar threw away his normal clothes and dressed into armour once more. They learned the enemy had been at Stoney Sept, but was now hurtling toward King’s Landing. He gave Lord Gerold command over the reserve and marched out later that night, in the dark, they crossed the border into the Riverlands and down toward the capital. Perhaps they could end this gods forsaken war.

 


	87. Aerion XV

 

** Chapter 87: Aerion XV **

****

“They moved quite quickly, Your Royal Highness. One thing that our spies say is that one moment they were in the Reach, the next they moved toward the Stoney Sept, and then from there they moved toward the capital. It seems that Aegor Rivers has taken command of the Company and the general direction of their campaign. They have men from the Reach and I believe they have men from the Riverlands aiding them as well.” Lord Estermont said. Lord Baratheon his brother by marriage was sat silently, his hands were still stained red with the blood of the enemy.

“Do we know their total number?” Aerion asked. He had bent over backwards after defeating Lord Bolling to get the other rebel Stormlords to side with him and the crown over their continuing allegiance to the Blackfyres.

“Their numbers are put somewhere near twenty thousand, Your Royal Highness, under the command of five men, Aegor Rivers, Daemon Blackfyre, Lord Appleton, Lord Bracken and Lord Vypren.” Estermont said.

That was surprising, Haegon Blackfyre would have made the most sense as a commander, then again he supposed that Aegor Rivers would be commanding the Golden Company and therefore there was no need for Haegon to have a command position. Division that could stem their end in battle. “Very well.” He said thinking through everything. They had fourteen thousand men roughly, after the inclusion of former rebels, many of whom Aerion did not really trust. “The Riverlords are not as trained in the recent fighting as everyone else. They will most likely be placed in the rear, or they will be offered as sacrificial lambs.” Aerion said, over the past three years, things had gone from charging right at the enemy to slow diversions of troops, and the use of archers for the initial range. “Does Bracken have Myrish archers?” He knew that during the first war, Lord Bracken had been sent to get Myrish archers but had been prevented from returning by the Master of Ships.

“There was no record of any Myrish bowmen, Your Royal Highness, but they brought their own archers. The Brackens, that is. And they have been preparing them for some time.” Lord Estermont replied.

Aerion didn’t reply immediately, instead he took the time to listen to the water of the Blackwater Rush outside, thinking up a way to counteract what was sure to be a bloody battle. “We are with our backs to the Rush, but we are also not on the marshy ground. I want pits dug, and then covered, I want archers ready with flaming arrows, and I want patrols daily before the sun sets, so we know precisely where the enemy is at all times.”

“For how long, Your Royal Highness? Surely they will have to attack soon? They can’t have enough resources to keep such a big army on the field for long.” Lord Estermont replied.

The fact that twenty thousand men was considered a big army said it all to Aerion, this war was changing things in terms of military tactics and he was not sure if they could keep up. “They won’t have the chance. We shall do a patrol today, and tomorrow. And tomorrow evening we attack.”

Lyonel Baratheon, scarred from the experience of battle, but a man who had shaped up to be better than his brother said. “I think we need to abandon that idea, Your Royal Highness, and strike now. We cannot give them the chance to prepare for anything. Aegor Rivers is a man who knows how to formulate plans and change at a mere moment’s notice, he will continue to shape and twist. We must strike now and remove him.”

His brother, Lord Baratheon voiced his agreement. “Lyonel is right, Your Royal Highness, every day we wait we give the former rebels in the army a chance to change sides. We cannot show weakness; you cannot show weakness.”

Aerion knew that there was an army under the command of Prince Aelor, his wife’s brother, approaching them as well, Aelor had had to handle pirates from Essos, but Aerion knew they couldn’t wait. But this attack, it was too soon and they would be ill prepared. “I will not waste the lives of my soldiers so that you can prove yourself in a melee, my lord.” Both Baratheon brothers tensed then. “Lord Estermont, prepare men to scout and raid. We shall draw them out.” With that he rose and walked out of the tent, Lonnel accompanying him. When they got to his own tent, Lonnel spoke.

“You know they’re going to be hounding you if this fails, right?” His friend had gotten greyer around the edges, and was also more hardened as well. He had not left Aerion’s side despite the troubles of the north.

“I know.” Aerion replied. “But, it won’t fail. I know how Aegor thinks, we’ve fought him twice before, and I’ve studied his tactics since I was a boy. He will come forward the moment the bush is burned. He will fall into the ditches being dug, and he will scurry to save face. That is how he reacts, he is not like Daemon Blackfyre, he does not think. He does. And this battle will be the one that ends him.”

“Is our bet still on?” Lonnel asked.

“Yes, but I think we should make it more interesting.” Aerion said, Lonnel grinned. “Whoever attacks Aegor but fails to injure him will buy the person who kills him a house.”

Lonnel laughed. “A house?”

“A house.” Aerion said.

Lonnel laughed. “Alright then, Your Royal Highness, prepare to buy me a house.” They shook hands then broke apart, Aerion turning to his letters, and Lonnel to reading. He read through the letter Aelora had written him recently, and smiled at the words that he was a father to a beautiful baby girl. It seemed things truly were going well.

 


	88. Aegor VI

 

** Chapter 88: Aegor VI **

****

The thundering of hooves on the ground, the smell of sweat and heat, and the odour of war, it was all around him. Aegor inhaled it all. After years in a cell, this was something that he had longed for. He was not made to stay inside a closed room, he was made for fighting. For killing, for everything that man was made for. The talking was over, there was nothing more to say, now it was all down to the blade. Aegor knew things would be good, he sensed it. Though Bolling had failed, though Yronwood had failed, he suspected they could achieve something here. Their army far outnumbered that of the Targaryens.

It was a mess in the field, they swung at one another, Aegor danced across the field, his horse taking in his movements. It had taken some time for them to get accustomed to one another. Aegor’s old horse had died during the fighting in the Golden Fields, but this one seemed to be somewhat stable. There was some rigidity in it, but that would change as things wore on. Of that he was confident. His blade sang as it cut through the flesh of the enemy. When the sword didn’t work he sheathed it and pulled out his dagger, jabbing and slashing, burying it, and one more in the skin of his enemies.

The enemy came at him, charging with some of the fiercest energy he had ever witnessed. As he fought them, Aegor was reminded of that day long ago, at Redgrass, named for how many bodies fell, where Aegor had been in his prime, fighting against the host of the usurper. That had been one of the finest and also the worst moments of his life. He had fought and fought, and for a moment it had seemed as though they would break through. Daemon had been unstoppable during that day. He had killed so many great knights, and had almost killed Maekar himself. Had it not been for that coward Bloodraven, perhaps things would’ve been different.

Bloodraven was not here today, the coward was hiding in King’s Landing. That made no difference though, for when Aegor was done with the foolish boy commanding the defence here, he would advance on King’s Landing and destroy Bloodraven. He heard a shout, glanced to his right and saw his son Daemon killing three men at once with his hammer. The boy was a natural fighter, and so Aegor had knighted him before the battle. He knew that Haegon had seen that for what it was, a reminder that Aegor not Haegon decided their strategy. The boy had grumbled but had eventually complied.

It was interesting to see how things had changed during his time in the black cells. Haegon was no longer that little boy who deferred on everything, he had grown into a strong young man, who fought and bled with his men. He was very much like Daemon in that regard. In a sense, Aegor was both proud of him and jealous of him. The boy would be one to watch in the future. Filled with anger and strength and the same charm that his father had, Haegon would make the perfect King. But right now they were fighting to put his far less qualified brother Daemon on the throne. That man was somewhere in the fray his guards with him.

Unlike his namesake, this Daemon was not a fighter, indeed he was more of a dreamer than anything else. Yet here they were, fighting and bleeding for him. Aegor watched as another member of the Golden Company fell, only for more of those fighting for the Targaryens to fall and die as well. There was a great deal of pain and anger in the cries coming from the falling now. Aegor pushed it from his mind and continued on his path. There was no point in wondering what might be and what could be. There was only what was now. He had learned that from a young age, and so he fought. His weapons spattering the ground with blood.

As soon as he saw him, he knew that this would be the fight that determined the war. Aerion Targaryen, the man who had disarmed him in the Golden Fields, all those years ago was hurtling toward him. Aegor rode to meet him, and in a clash of weapons they met. Sparks flew, pain grew inside of him, but he ignored it. The feeling that at least there was some sense of achievement was growing. Targaryen was older now, wiser than he had been last time. He did not move so much to the right anymore, remaining centred. That made it harder for Aegor to swing at him with full force. Instead he engaged in some minor parrying and thrusting. He shifted, clanged, changed, and then he struck with as much force as he could.

Targaryen grimaced, but that didn’t stop him from hitting Aegor back as hard as he could. Aegor laughed, this would be a good fight. They came together in a clash once more, big broad swings met one another, making the whole sound echo around them. Aegor wondered how long they could keep this going. He pushed, Targaryen pushed back, he feinted Targaryen hit him. This dance lasted for a long time, growing with intensity, and never quite relenting. Aegor felt his strength sapping away, he worried that he might not be able to keep going for much longer. Eventually though, things levelled out.  But then something happened. A flash of light hit him, preventing him from fully seeing what was happening, he took a hit, heard his horse groan and then he was struggling to jump away, he managed to just as his horse fell.

Aegor struggled to his feet. Aerion Targaryen advanced toward him. Swords clanged, Aegor groaned, his body was beginning to cave into him, that was not something he wanted, but it was happening. Aegor gave it his all, he managed to dent Targaryen’s armour, and leave him bleeding, but when Targaryen went from one to two, he couldn’t keep up. The next thing he knew, there was a sword at his throat. Aegor looked at the man, his face covered in sweat. “Kill me. You know you want to.” Targaryen took one look at him pulled his fist back and hit him over the head.


	89. Donnor III

** Chapter 89: Donnor III **

****

The world didn’t make sense anymore. It hadn’t for a very long time. Not since father and mother had died. Donnor felt as though he had been sleep walking through the past year. He had become Lord of Winterfell, Lord of the North, a divided north, and he had declared war on the rebels. He had slaughtered any and all who stood in his way, he had reduced the enemy to nothing more than a few scraps. Villages had been burned to the ground, women and children had been killed in his name, and there was little that he really cared about. Aregelle remained in Winterfell, but Donnor did not know if he would marry her. He wasn’t sure if he would marry at all. He had married Willam off to Lyanne Glover to keep Glover loyal.

Cregard Stark had led him on a wild goose chase around the north, moving from one place to another, leaving burned out husks of the places he had been. Donnor had not really cared for that. He had fought the man and the man had fled. Donnor had eventually found him, hiding in a village in the eastern mountains. Their armies were watching them now. Donnor stood there, dressed in boiled leather, Cregard the same. Donnor looked at the man and said. “Your father started all of this. He was not happy with the land he had been given and so he rebelled. He died, your brother Torrhen died, and your mother died as well. You are all that is left. Your sisters have disavowed you. You understand that you cannot do anything but fight and die now, don’t you?”

Cregard Stark said nothing, he held himself tall, with much arrogance. “I know that Winterfell has always been rightfully mine. I know that you are a broken husk of a man who does not deserve that which you would claim, and I know that I will beat you, for the gods look favourably on me.”

Donnor snorted. “The gods cannot help you now. You will die. Now choose your weapon.” He gestured to the weapons that lay before them. This would be settled in the old manner, without the unnecessary nonsense that the Andals had brought many years ago.

“The mace.” Cregard picked up one, as did Donnor. They circled one another, then Cregard moved in, he landed a heavy blow on Donnor that caused him to gasp. But then Donnor pushed back. He had trained for this, he swung his mace, and knocked Cregard back, he then stepped forward and knocked him on the head, Cregard blinked. Then the man pushed back. One blow, followed by another, and another. Donnor took a breath, he felt the blows land on him, and tried to avoid getting stuck. It was difficult.

He knew that things wouldn’t be easy. He stepped out and moved to the side. He danced around, smacked the man on the back, then took a blow to the chest. They danced around one another. Both men were panting heavily, sizing one another up, debating whether the other had any veritable merits to be wary of. It seemed Cregard had decided that he did not, for the man came forward and swung his mace, with great power and speed. Donnor blocked one or two of the blows, but the third blow took out his own mace. He picked up a hammer and then continued the fighting. This time he managed to get more than one decent blow in, dancing across, powering through and ensuring that Cregard could not get more than one foot forward at any given time.

He knew the entire army of both sides were watching this. It felt odd to him that this was going to decide the entire future of the north. But at the same time it also made sense. Deep down he suspected that he had known and that Father had known that it would always come down to this. There could be no other way. The past had failed to rectify the problems, and so now the present was handling them. The hammer sang as it met the mace, again and again they danced across one another, bowing to the pressure of arms and weapons. Hammer versus mace, became hammer versus hammer, and so the blows continued raining down. Donnor felt his body grow weak from exertion, he did not know how much longer he could go, but he did know that he would not stop.

Another blow, and then another, the hammers disappeared to be replaced by swords. This time they did not circle around one another, but instead reacted with full force. Blows reigned, they cut one another, they made the other bleed, Donnor felt as if his very being was on fire from all the pain and blood. He continued though, dancing around, circling through, and ensuring that Cregard could not finish him this way. When their swords were removed, they changed to wrestling. Donnor could tell Cregard was strong, but he had grown up wrestling. He tired the man out with circles and dances, allowed him to hit, and then he finished things.

A hit here, a glance there, a punch everywhere. It kept going like a mantra, a song. He kept whispering the names of all who had died. Reminding himself of what he was fighting for. He pushed and pushed, Cregard pushed back, but his retaliatory attacks were becoming sporadic and weak, as though there was little in them. That was a shame, but no matter. Donnor continued and when his hands wrapped around the man’s throat he didn’t let go until Cregard stopped moving. He dropped him then, stood over his body and breathed in the air. Victory was sweet.

 


	90. Bloodraven VII

** Chapter 90: Bloodraven VII **

****

Brynden looked at the King, it was a rare moment where the King decided to join them at the small council chamber, which was very much a family affair, with Maekar, Prince Aelor, Prince Aerion and Prince Aegon all being present. The King looked ill, his body it seemed was giving up on him, years of being immersed in a book seemed to be doing him no good. The King looked at him and said.

“I know you think I was wrong to let Aegor go to the wall instead of being executed, but I think that in time it will come to be seen as the right decision. For all his crimes he is still my uncle, and I will not become a kinslayer.” The King took a breath, a wheezing one. “Regardless of that, there is the fact that Daemon Blackfyre is dead, and his brother Haegon is now the claimant, and was crowned King by the Golden Company and their supporters. We will need to focus our attention on him now.”

“I understand that Your Majesty, but I do not think that the kingdom has the strength to continue the fight. For three years there was war before Prince Aerion defeated Aegor. I think that we will need to give it some time before we do anything regarding Haegon.” Brynden responded.

The King did not seem happy with that, where his sudden desire for war had come from, Brynden did not know, and it concerned him. “I think that if we give them the right incentive, the lords of Westeros will rally around to ensure that the would be usurpers do not get another chance at achieving anything. This last war has taught me one thing and that is that we cannot rely on the lords to always do their duty. We must ensure that things are done properly and efficiently, we must perfect the system that King Viserys was developing before he died.”

Brynden looked at the King, he knew that he could achieve what the King was asking for in a heartbeat, but that was not the root issue. The issue was that the King was not King Viserys, nor was he his father, he was a weakling. “Would you wish for this to happen immediately?” Brynden asked, knowing that he would need to work over time to give the King some semblance of progress, whilst delaying everything.

The King looked at him and said. “Yes, at once. I do not want a single moment’s delay. Such delays will do nothing but worsen the situation for us and for everyone else. It must be done now and it must be done promptly. Nobody can get left out. I already know that Donnor Stark is in favour of this, he was not greatly appreciative of how Edric Stark and his sons were able to bring something over him, twice.” Donnor Stark was someone who Brynden did not trust, he knew everything about the boy, and he knew what the boy was. The King’s sudden affinity for him, worried Brynden. The King continued. “Maekar, I have done you wrong in the past. That ends now. From now on you are commander of my armies, you are Lord Field Marshal, and High Constable. The arrangement for the national army shall be under your command.” Maekar looked stunned, but nodded. The King then turned to Aerion. “Aerion, your Company shall become the beginning of the national army. You are to go around and take the tribute from the lords of the Crownlands, should they refuse, you are to destroy them.” Aerion nodded. The King then turned to his heir. “Aelor, you are to remain at my side for the time being, and then you are going to travel the realm, meet with the lords win them to your side, and choose a bride.” Aelor nodded. The King continued. “We are at a juncture now that we should never have reached. When Daemon Blackfyre rose against Father, I took note of all that had happened and I swore to myself that if something like this ever happened again under Baelor, I would use every bit of information I had gathered to destroy them. It happened again and I failed. I failed you all, and for that I apologise. That was not good enough on my part. I will endeavour to do better. I hope you join me.” With that the King finished speaking, got up and walked out of the chamber, leaving them all behind in his wake.

“What has gotten into the King?” Aerion asked, fatherhood suited the boy, now a man. He had a shining glow in his features.

Maekar spoke then. “I think the King is doing something new and unhibited. Either that or he has read something in those books he so likes that has prompted this. Either way, who are we to question him? I think we should embrace this and ensure that he gets what he wants, regardless of the consequences. We know how to handle them.”

Brynden nodded. “Yes that is one way of looking at it.” he was not so sure that this could produce positive results, to him, they were teetering on the edge of something that could potentially destroy the dynasty. Maekar said nothing but rose and left, Aerion going with him. Aelor remained for a moment before leaving.

Brynden began drawing up plans for ensuring the King’s desires were carried out in the least harmful way to the kingdoms possible. He drew names from the spies he had, and wrote down their tools and uses. He created the beasts that he knew would go down in legend. He created the rat, the hawk and the pig, and he knew he would never forgive himself for what they were about to unleash.

 


	91. Aelora V

** Chapter 91: Aelora V **

****

Aelora watched as her daughter tottered around, she had grown quickly in the year since her birth and as such was the light of everyone’s life. Uncle Maekar seemed to melt around her, and Aerion was of course the doting father. Her husband stood there watching their daughter walk around and pick things up, a smile on his face. When she spoke, she didn’t take her eyes off of their daughter.

“Do you think the King wishes for the lords to rebel once more so that he can finally crush them and ensure that they can never challenge the authority of the crown?”  There had been a lot of rumours about the King and his planned course of action since the ending of the Second Blackfyre Rebellion, but there had been no confirmation. Aerion had been busy travelling the realm, and she had accompanied him therefore, they had no idea of how true the rumours were.

Aerion picked their daughter up. “I don’t know. I think the King has definitely changed since the war ended. Whether that is because he thinks that he has to change, or whether it’s because he has read something I do not know. I do not think we will ever know.” Aerion gave their daughter to her nurse and they watched as she was taken to get changed. “I think that Bloodraven has seen his power decrease though.”

“That makes sense, after all he did a terrible job of containing the rebellions that sprung up, and he has antagonised Donnor Stark, what with his sharp reprimands about the man’s handling of Aegor Rivers.” Aelora replied. There had been a great shouting match between the King and Bloodraven when they learned of what Bloodraven had said to the young Lord of Winterfell. “Truly, I think that Bloodraven doesn’t know how to exist without Aegor Rivers serving as his enemy. I am surprised that he hasn’t tried to have the man freed from his cell within the Night’s Watch.”

“I don’t think the man is that foolish. He has a thousand eyes and one after all, and therefore knows how to keep Bittersteel under lock and key. I think he is growing tired though. He has ruled the realm since the King came to the throne. I think he is hoping Aelor takes over soon.” Aerion responded.

Aelora laughed, and as the nurse came back into the room, she kissed her daughter good night, Aerion did the same. There was a brief silence, then once their daughter had been put to sleep, Aelora continued. “I think Aelor is also looking forward to coming to the throne. He has grown tired of waiting for the King to pass on, I think he feels that he can do a far superior job than the King currently does. And having seen him speak at court, I am inclined to agree with him.” She paused, to take a sip of wine. “He and Mother continue to argue over who he should marry though. Mother wants him to marry a sister of Donnor Stark, but he seems to be considering marrying a daughter of Lord Tyrell. It seems to have gotten ever more complicated.”

“He will need to be exceptionally careful about who he marries as it will send a sign about his priorities. Right now the north is the side which we need to gain back. They are still angry with the lack of activity that the crown had when Edric Stark rebelled. I do not think Donnor Stark is the sort of man who would take things lying down. Unlike his father. I think he is very capable of declaring independence.” Aerion said.

Aelora looked at her husband then. “Are you serious? Do you truly think Donnor Stark would dare make himself a King? After the chaos and damage the north underwent, it is only surviving because of the aid that the King has sent north. That and the money being paid to them.”

“They are rebuilding. We’ve received reports of it, I’ve seen it myself a few times. They are slowly rebuilding and when they discover the gold mines in the west, they’ll get richer. They will pay off their debt before the year is over.” Aerion said seemingly sure of himself.

Aelora considered this. “Then how do we prevent Donnor Stark from getting any ideas?” She knew that from what Aerion had said, Donnor Stark was a proud man, and not someone who would willingly bend to someone he did not consider worthy of his loyalty, as was the case with the northern lords and the ruler of Winterfell.

Aerion sighed. “We must ensure that the King does not get the chance to antagonise him, and we must ensure that Bloodraven remembers what his duty is. I can speak with Lonnel about the best ways approach him, it will have to be done subtly, otherwise we shall face a difficult year.”

Aelora nodded. “Very well, I suppose there will be time enough to ensure that things can be arranged.”

Aerion was about to respond, when a messenger arrived in their room. “Your Royal Highnesses I apologise for this interruption, but there has been a request for you to attend the Hand of the King. Immediately.” The man said.

They both got up and walked out of the room, a knight of the Kingsguard, trailing them. When they arrived at the Tower of the Hand, they found Shiera Seastar, Aelor, Prince Maekar, Mother and Aegon there. “Ah, good, you are both here.” The Hand said. There was a moment of silence and then the Hand continued. “The King is dead.”

There was a shocked silence. Then, Aelor asked. “How? How did this happen?”

The Hand did not speak immediately, but when he did, his voice was soft. “There was a note and a drink, it was tested, it was filled with more substance of tears of Lys than anyone can sustain.”

There was another silence, then Prince Maekar turned to Aelor, kneeled and said. “The King is dead, Long Live the King!” They did the same and Aelor looked completely stunned.


	92. Aelor III

** Chapter 92: Aelor III **

****

 

The crown sat atop his head, it was not the crown his uncle or his grandfather had worn, instead it was the crown of Jaehaerys the Wise. He had chosen it as the symbol of what he hoped would be his reign. Aelor had been King for just under a moon and there were already several things that needed to be dealt with. He had called the council- which included Bloodraven as Hand, Uncle Maekar as Master of Laws, Aerion as Master of War and Aegon as an advisor- to discuss the situation. He took a breath then spoke.

“We have received word from the residents of Crackclaw Point that the bandits who had been raiding their area have now been dispersed and have indeed returned that which they had taken, so on that note we thank you, Aerion.” His cousin and goodbrother nodded. “However, there is an issue regarding their temples to the Old Gods. It seems that despite our assurances that they would be able to rebuild them once the bandits had been dealt with, they are still being prevented from doing so. Why is that?” He directed his question to Uncle Maekar there.

The man stood firm and resolute, the last son of Daeron the Good to live. “I have looked over everything and discussed the matter with the masons, the equipment they want to use will cause more issues in the long term than is affordable. I have asked for advice on what sort of materials would be best suited to replacing the materials they wish to use. It will take time but it will be done.”

Aelor nodded, he turned to the Grand Maester and said. “Let the chiefs know that this will be happening.” The man nodded, Aelor then turned to Bloodraven and asked. “What word has there been from the Wall, has Aegor Rivers arrived there?” He had not supported his uncle’s decision to send the most dangerous man in the known world to the Wall, death would’ve been preferable, but since becoming King, he had realised that executing Rivers would’ve made him a martyr to the Blackfyre cause, and that was most definitely not something he wanted.

“Lord Commander Towers writes that the other prisoners have arrived, but so far there has been no sign of him. I had my sources look into this and they found that Rivers has been held prisoner by Donnor Stark.” Bloodraven replied.

Aelor exhaled. “You mean to tell me that Donnor Stark has broken a direct order from his King, and as such has kept the most dangerous man in the known world in his castle? For what purpose?”

Bloodraven didn’t say anything for a moment, then he said. “I believe, Your Majesty, that Donnor Stark is exacting his revenge on Aegor Rivers. Revenge for all the harm and pain that the man has caused for the last few years. Indeed, I think we should allow this to continue.”

Aelor looked at the man aghast. “I’m sorry, you think what?” He could not believe this, he knew the man before him disliked Aegor Rivers, but to actively encourage whatever it was that Donnor Stark was doing? No that couldn’t be right.

“I think we should encourage this behaviour. Not openly, of course, but neither should we ask that Donnor send Aegor to the Wall.” Bloodraven replied.

“You would have the word of the Crown undermined?” Aelor demanded, anger growing within him. “You would have it so that when people find out about this, and they will, they always do, they will know that the word of the Crown is worth nothing. That we will turn a blind eye toward injustice that is being committed, that laws are being broken. I am sorry but I cannot allow that.”

It was Aerion who spoke then. “It cannot be injustice when the man who is receiving such treatment broke every law known to man, who has reneged on promises of peace, and who has done everything in his power to destroy Westeros.”

Aelor looked at his cousin, shocked and horrified. “This is not a matter of the man, it is a matter of principle. Allow one man to be punished despite the law, and others will take up the cry, and anarchy will become the main stay of the Kingdom. I cannot and will not allow it.” He turned to the Grand Maester. “Write to Lord Donnor and tell him to release Aegor Rivers to the Night’s Watch immediately.”

“Yes Your Majesty.” The man replied.

He could tell the others had objections, but none of them raised them. Aelor decided to focus on a related matter. “Now, I want to know how dangerous Haegon Blackfyre is. The Golden Company took quite the beating during the war, but they still have significant numbers. They also have the Golden Fields.”

Bloodraven replied. “Haegon Blackfyre seems content to rebuild his resources and allow the Fields to prosper. My sources report that he had even spoken of a conciliatory peace.”

Aelor leaned forward interested. “Do you think he is being genuine?”

Bloodraven shook his head. “I think he wishes to play for time, Your Majesty. He wishes to get his things in order and then he will make his move. He was raised by Bittersteel, he knows how to play for time, and how to use it for his advantage. I would not be surprised if he starts looking toward expansion. We must focus on bringing Volantis to our side.”

Aelor nodded, that made sense. “I shall trust that you know the correct means and methods of getting that done.” He knew his hand could be somewhat out there when it came to diplomacy, and right now Aelor did not want there to be another fire for him to put out.

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Bloodraven said.

Aelor nodded, rose and said. “Dismissed.” He turned and walked out of the council chamber, the Kingsguard following. When he got back to his own chambers, he slumped down into a chair and sighed. “Keeping Aegor Rivers a prisoner, what the fuck, Donnor?”


	93. Donnor IV

** Chapter 93: Donnor IV **

****

Donnor looked at his brother and he knew that his brother would want answers  about what was happening, and he knew that he would need to answer several questions from others as to what was happening within the north. And he knew there was a lot that he needed to do, but right now he just wanted to sit and stare at the blade in his hands. The blade covered in blood that he had had forged from the bones of Lord Bolton. Donnor took a breath, placed the knife on the table, and looked at his brother.

“I am sure you have your questions. I suggest you ask them now.”

Willam straightened and then asked. “Why does Aegor Rivers remain in a cell in Winterfell, and why is he always bloodied and breaking down every time he is dragged out of said cell? What are you hoping to achieve from this?”

Donnor sighed. “I have kept him here, to ensure that we get what we want. We have been pushed through hell and we shall get our answers. I want to know what Aegor Rivers hoped to achieve by sending people to the north. We must get answers, and if he dies during that process then so be it.”

“And the fact that the crown has sent another reminder that he is to go to the wall? What are you going to say to them? They’ve demanded a response.” Willam replied.

Donnor laughed. “Those words mean nothing. It came from a King who has demanded things from us that he has not himself given us. I will get the information I need from Aegor Rivers, then I will decide what will happen with him.”

“And if the King decides to send people to force you to oblige by this order? What would happen if they demand this and then they do something that would be legally within their power and try to take away what Father fought for?” Willam asked.

Donnor rose then. “I am doing nothing of the sort. I am trying to ensure that we never again have to face the challenges that we faced. Bolton, Karstark, Hornwood, they all rose up against Father. Bolton is dead, his family is down to one woman, Karstark is gone. Hornwood are reliant on us. Umber is broken. Manderly has had to ensure that he continues the higher levies we have asked of them. We must secure our position. Ensuring Aegor Rivers gives us this is tantamount to this.”

“And what has he given? Has he said anything of note?” Willam asked. Donnor knew his brother was worried about everything that was coming from this, and the concerns that might be eminent elsewhere.

Donnor closed his eyes. “He has revealed that the use of Edric Stark and the Company of the Rose was merely a plan, it was nothing that he really wanted to do. That was more the strategy that Haegon Blackfyre. He has said that the north was never meant to take as much damage as it did, and yet it did. He believes Edric Stark was necessary to the holding of the north properly.”

“So, why not send him to the wall? Why keep him here?” Willam asked. “Surely it would be better to release him to the Watch.”

“Because I have not gotten everything I wanted from him. I need to know more. I need to ensure that we have everything we need to hold the advantage over the crown and others.” Donnor responded.

Willam sighed. “Then you will damn us to the Crown’s wrath. I  do not think they will be willing to allow this to stand for long, brother, they need to ensure that their strength is protected.”

Donnor looked at his brother and said. “Then let them, they cannot challenge the might of the north whilst we are in the north.” His brother went to reply but then there was a knock on the door. “Enter.” Donnor said.

Aregelle entered, dressed in grey and white, her hair loose. Donnor swallowed. “Sorry, my lord, I can come back later.” She said.

“No, there is no need, Willam is just leaving.” Donnor said giving his brother the eye. Willam nodded and left. Leaving just Donnor and Aregelle in the room, alone. “How are you?” He asked.

“I am well, but that is not why I am here.” Aregelle replied.

“So, why are you here?” He demanded. He did not have time for any sort of talk about marriage.

“Do you still love me?” Aregelle asked.

Donnor wanted to sigh. This was not something he wanted to think about, this was not something he ever wanted to discuss. And yet here he was, about to answer a question he’d been avoiding. “I do.”

“Then why are we not married, because I love you, and you have known this for a long time.” Aregelle replied.

Donnor sighed. “It has not been an easy thing for me. I have wanted to propose to you for a while now. And yet there are things that I have to consider. I have to think of what the lords will say, I will have to think of what message it sends out. I love you Aregelle, but I am not the free man I once was. I must heal the north, not damage it.”

“And you think us marrying would damage the north?” Aregelle asked. “That is the most ridiculous thing I have heard, and I have heard a lot.”

“What do you want me to do?” Donnor replied. “I have an entire Kingdom to think about!”

“Be a man and marry the woman you love, stop sitting there and doing nothing out of fear!” Aregelle shouted back.

Donnor took a deep breath, then as softly as he could asked. “Then shall we sort this out now? The Godswood is down there, we should marry now.”

“Are you serious?” Aregelle asked.

“Yes.” Donnor said.

“Then let us go.” Aregelle said, she took his hand and they walked out of the room.

 


	94. Haegon IV

** Chapter 94: Haegon IV **

****

Haegon rolled his shoulders, he still had a slight pain in them from where the battle had met him. As the eldest surviving son of Daemon Blackfyre, he was now the Blackfyre pretender to the throne, the rightful King, he had married the daughter of a Volanteene nobleman, one of the Triarchs, Talisa Magyr was her name, and he intended to use that connection as best he could. Right now that meant meeting with the ambassador from Volantis to discuss the things that his city was doing. He did not like the fellow, with his flat stomach, and his slicked back hair, he looked like a rat, though for some reason the ladies of his court liked the man.

“You have come from Volantis, I trust things are going well enough in terms of your rest and your holdings.” Haegon began, offering the man bread and salt, when the man had accepted them, he continued. “We have much to discuss, first and foremost is the issue of the upcoming election. Do you believe the elephants or the tigers will win?” Either way did not matter he already knew there would be war.

The ambassador took his time replying, compiling his thoughts no doubt. “Sire, I believe the Elephants will win. There is no desire for war at this present time, and as such, Laenor Lothar and his allies control the senate. There will be votes aplenty there to ensure they win.”

Haegon nodded, his spies had informed him of something similar, still, he knew the people of Volantis who ruled the city. He knew they wanted the Golden Fields. He knew they wanted a lot more than that. “So, tell me, why is it that my men continue intercepting spies from Volantis who continually carry letters of the Tiger Syndicate. If the Elephants are in control of everything the Tiger Syndicate should not even be allowed to operate. And yet it is. So, tell me, what is happening?”

He could tell by the way the ambassador’s eyes shifted that the man knew he’d been caught out in a lie, and yet like many ambassadors, he did not admit it. “Do you have these letters with you perchance, Your Majesty? It is not that I doubt that you are speaking the truth, it is simply that it will make my life easier if I can write confirmation of seeing them to the rulers.”

Haegon clapped his hands and a page brought the letters, the boy bowed handed the letters to the ambassador who then read through them. One by one, Haegon could see him getting more and more flustered with each letter that he read, eventually, the man had to hand the letters back. “Well?” Haegon asked, making himself sound impatient.

“Sire, I do not know what to tell you. Under Order Seventy-Two the Tiger Syndicate was supposed to have been dissolved a long time ago. That they are still sending letters out is most concerning. I shall write to the Triarchs as soon as I return to the embassy to inform them of this.” The man said.

Haegon had no doubt the man would write to the Triarchs, but it would not be to ask why the syndicate was sending letters, it would be to inform them that they had been found out. His spies had found all the corresponding information that he needed. If he wanted to Haegon could have the man executed there and then, instead he decided to see what would happen. “So, now that we have cleared that from the path, let us discuss the renewal of trade. Your masters wish for three more tonnes of the silver that we are producing. I would advise that they would only get two more tonnes.”

“Two, Sire? But that is below the average rate.” The ambassador protested.

“And yet that is what I am willing to offer you. Volantis continues trading with Lys and Tyrosh, they continue to send men to attack our holdings. Consequently, two tonnes are what you shall be getting. Unless the Triarchs stop supporting them.” Haegon said, knowing that the ambassador would cave.

“I…I will speak with the Triarchs, Your Majesty.” The ambassador said.

“Good. Now is there anything else?” Haegon asked. The man shook his head, Haegon waved a hand in dismissal, and watched the man leave. Haegon rose after a moment and left the room, making his way to his own private chambers.

Within moments his brothers and sisters were there alongside his nephews. Calla spoke. “You wasted an opportunity.” Haegon raised an eyebrow, Calla was becoming more and more of a pain, ever since he had returned and her husband hadn’t. “You could have twisted his arm to get Volantis to wage War on Westeros.”

Haegon burst out laughing. “Sister, we have just fought a war against the Iron Throne, we lost. I am in no mood to shed more blood just yet.” It was true, he wanted to consolidate his position first before moving onto the throne.

“So, you will just continue sitting here doing nothing? Playing at being King whilst an usurper sits on the throne?” Calla demanded.

Haegon restrained himself from slapping his sister. “Calla, I advise that you watch your tongue. I am your King, and I decide what happens now, not you, not Aegor, me. So, keep quiet.” With that he turned to Baelon, the one member of his family apart from Mother who he actually trusted. “I want the Company prepared and ready.”

“Yes, how many regiments do you want stationed?” Baelon asked.

“Four.” Haegon said.

As expected, Calla spoke up then. “Why are you having regiments of the Company stationed in places?”

Haegon laughed and then sighed. “Because, dearest sister, I know what Volantis is going to do. And I plan on acting first. We shall take Volantis, and then we shall take Westeros.”


	95. Aerion XVI

** Chapter 95: Aerion XVI  **

****

Aerion watched the festivities with a light frame of mind. Daella was marrying Ser Edgar Tyrell, Lord Matthos’s eldest son and heir. It seemed that his sister and her betrothed, or rather her husband liked one another. Aerion was happy for her, Daella had the unfortunate luck with her previous betrothed, a scoundrel from the Riverlands who Aerion had had the pleasure of killing quite recently. He watched as they danced and laughed. His own wife was currently getting some rest, heavily pregnant with their second child, their daughter resting as well. Aegon approached him then, things between them were getting better if not as good as they could be.

“Brother,” Aerion acknowledged. “Good wedding is it not?”

Aegon nodded. “Indeed. Daella seems happy. Edgar Tyrell is a decent fellow, unlike his father.”

Aerion snorted. “That’s not that hard. Matthos Tyrell is an oaf and a man who is decidedly oafish, and a man who should really have been considered removed for some of his words.” Matthos Tyrell had said some very unflattering things about some very important people at court recently, and that had drawn some criticism for it.

“I do think that perhaps we should have been considering removing him and replacing him with Edgar Tyrell. After all Edgar seems as though he actually knows what he’s doing. I’ve never gotten over the feeling that Matthos Tyrell has no idea what he’s doing and is just making it up as he goes along. And considering the things that have been happening in the Reach I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.” Aegon replied.

Aerion laughed. “Enough of that, come brother, tell me how was your visit to the Riverlands? How did you find Raventree Hall? Did you meet your lady love?” He had heard about Aegon’s lady love, and as such he had done what he could to set them up to meet.

Aegon blushed something fierce. “It went well thank you, brother. Lord Blackwood can talk something fierce though. All he does is talk and eat. And he talks a lot. You know he wanted something to do with the canal being built on the Fork to turn toward the Hall. And of course, he kept throwing his daughters at me.”

Aerion laughed. “Oh? Which one did you prefer? Lady Melissa or Lady Betha?”

Aegon’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know their names?”

Aerion kept his face neutral and replied. “Do answer the question, brother.”

Aegon continued blustering and then replied. “Lady Betha, she is very kind, but also very bold. She reminds me a bit of Rhae, but without the other things.” Aegon laughed nervously then.

Aerion clapped his brother on the shoulder and said. “Very good, very good.” A messenger hurried over to them and whispered in their ears.

“Your Royal Highnesses, The Hand of the King has asked for your presence in the antechamber.”

Aerion nodded, gave the man a coin, and walked over into the Antechamber with Aegon. The King was there, the crown on his head, Father was there as well. Aerion sat down, Aegon at his side. “Your Majesty, you wished to see us?”

King Aelor looked at him and then said. “I did not summon you, Bloodraven did. Bloodraven, speak.”

Bloodraven took a breath, he looked haggard. “There has been word from Volantis. It seems that the Elephants have lost the election there. The Tigers have already begun rebuilding their navy and their army. They are reaching out to others to see whether or not they are willing to engage in a fight with the Golden Fields.”

Aerion wiped a hand over his brow. “And? This justifies removing us from our sister’s wedding, why?” He was not too bothered with Volantis and the Golden Fields, let the Golden Company defend their little hovel, he did not care that much about it.

“It is important because of what has happened since then.” Bloodraven replied.

“You mean to say that the election result is not fresh?” Aegon asked.

“No, it is from perhaps three days ago. I did not mention anything because of the wedding and the necessary arrangements.” Bloodraven replied.

“Well, what has happened since then?” Father demanded, Father had become quite impatient since the war, Aerion sympathised, his own patience was beginning to wear thin.

“Haegon Blackfyre, has marched on Volantis. The Elephants have begun negotiating with him to assess what their role is going to be in whatever he does. Braavos and Lys have approached us asking for an alliance.” Bloodraven said.

The King’s eyes widened, comically. “You mean to tell me that Haegon Blackfyre is approaching Volantis, and you only just saw fit to tell me that?” Bloodraven nodded, and the King looked as if he were about hit the man, but then he calmed down. 

Bloodraven continued. “As such we must discuss how to deal with this thread, without the need to engage an army.”

“Is there a way to do that?” Aerion asked. “After all, the enemy will have their armies, and navies, we will need to engage somehow.”

Father spoke then. “I think that we must ensure that we have our supply lines and that we have good communication chains between our lords and us. Furthermore, we must also ensure that we have the full might of our diplomatic services at use, otherwise we will not be able to do anything without engaging in war.”

The King spoke. “I want this covered as soon as possible. Encourage our diplomats to seek peaceful solutions, and to ensure Volantis is not isolated completely. After all, we do not want to isolate our kin.”

Bloodraven nodded. “I shall see to it, Your Majesty.”

The King then looked at Aerion and said. “I would appreciate it if you would spend time here with Aelora.”

Aerion nodded. “Of course.” They were dismissed and from there, Aerion made his way back to the wedding, where he bid goodnight to his sister, and made his way back to his wife and their daughter. He kissed their daughter on the forehead then got changed. He got into bed with his wife and sighed as she wrapped her arms around him.

 


	96. Shiera VI

 

** Chapter 96: Shiera VI **

****

****

Shiera stretched slightly, winter was coming, as the Starks were so apt to say, and yet she did not feel a cold. Her children were well, Melissa was the smartest out of them all, Daeron and Aerys remained calm and collected, but Shiera knew her daughter had the gift. And as such she wanted to make sure she was protected. That was one of the reasons she had pulled Brynden away from his readings, he didn’t look too happy about it, but her husband smiled as she sat in his lap, she could feel his happiness against her ass.

“So, how are things going?” She asked, knowing she had to work to the thing she wanted to discuss the most.

Her husband sighed. “Well enough, I think there are still some minor details that I need to work out. Our ambassadors have successfully gotten agreement from Braavos, Lys and Myr to attack Volantis through diplomatic means, whilst Tyrosh remains aloof from things. Our ambassador in Volantis has left with his family.”

“That is a good star then, do you think the King truly wishes to avoid another war? We both know the Tigers will hand things over to Haegon Blackfyre if he comes in great strength. They want the Golden Fields, and he wants more power. If it comes down to it, they will bend over for him, and there will be little that can be done for the elephants.” Shiera pointed out.

Brynden laughed. “You know, you should learn to sugar coat things a little.” Shiera snorted. “But no, you are right, I think there is going to be another war. The King is wary about allowing such a thing to happen, but I do not think he has a choice. There is going too much diplomatic push back. Braavos will always want Volantis to suffer, but Myr and Tyrosh and Lys all need Volantis thriving. So, sanctions won’t last.”

Shiera sighed. “You’d have thought that by now the Blackfyres would have learned that they do not stand a chance at getting the throne. That they never and never will. People want stability more than they want change. That much has always been clear.” She had seen more in her visions, but Brynden already knew that.

“I know, yet they will keep trying, I think Haegon Blackfyre does not want to go for the throne for himself, but merely because it would keep his sister off his back. I think that perhaps if we could convince him that he would be better served simply keeping to Volantis and the Golden Fields we would spare ourselves any unnecessary bloodshed. Either that or we will need to spread discord in the family.” Brynden replied.

“I think you will have a much easier time sowing discord between the family members, particularly Calla Blackfyre and her brother. Calla is in love with Aegor and as such she wants him back no matter the cost. She wants to achieve what he wants, because that is the only thing she truly knows or understands. It is quite sad truth be told, but alas it is what it is. I do not think you can change much about her. But you can play on that fear.” Shiera responded.

Brynden nodded. “Agreed, I shall have our sources amongst them stir the pot, so to speak. It will be to our benefit to ensure they are not allied.”

Shiera hummed, and then turned completely so she was looking at Brynden. “There was another matter I wished to speak to you about. It involves our daughter.”

“You worry that she might be moving toward the Lord of Light?” Brynden asked, Shiera wanted to ask him how he knew that that was her concern, but then she remembered who and what her husband was.

“Yes. I do not like the amount of time she spends reading through their damned books. And I do not like the fact that she has started reciting their chants. They are not good people, Brynden, we both know that.” Shiera replied.

“I know, yet the fact that I am still alive and that you are still here suggests that she will not end up in lot seven.” Brynden said. Wrapping his arms around her as she shivered, that had not been a nice vision.

“I know, but we both know that things started with Haegon Blackfyre taking Volantis. That then leads to the red priests fleeing in all different directions and a rise in piracy, which leads to our deaths and our daughter being taken. I cannot and will not allow that to happen!” Shiera replied adamantly.

Brynden kissed her cheek then. “Neither will I. I have increased the guard around our children, and I’ve instructed the Kingsguard about what to do if any red priest or priestess approaches the Red Keep, the Gold Cloaks also know what to do. We have got things secured.”

Shiera nodded. “I know, I know.” She sighed then as Brynden began kissing her neck, she had wanted this for a long time, but then she felt him go rigid, she pulled back waiting for the vision to end. When he opened his eye, he looked nervous. “What did you see?”

“A thousand flames, a thousand flames and a black dragon roaring above them. They were burning brightly and they were all focused toward the sea.” Brynden said.

“War?” She asked, fighting to keep her voice even.

“War.” Brynden said. As he said that there was a knock on the door, a boy entered, with silver hair and green eyes, he handed Brynden a note and then hurried out.

Brynden opened it and they both read what it said.

_Darkness is coming, at first light, they attack. Seven Help us._

He threw the note away and looked at her. She looked at him and together they both said. “It has begun.”


	97. Haegon V

** Chapter 97: Haegon V **

****

Haegon watched as the city gates were thrown wide open, he rode into the city listening as the crowd cheered his name. He had expected to face resistance, or at least some resistance, but it seemed the Tigers had lived up to their end of the deal. There had been no need for bloodshed, his brothers and the guards rode behind him. Haegon waved as the crowds cheered his name, and those of his brothers. They rode through the streets, up the pavements and then they stopped. He got off his horse and walked to where the leading Tiger was standing.

“Goodfather.” He said acknowledging Benerro Maegyr, his goodfather and the head of the Tigers.

“Your Majesty.” Benerro replied.

“I see that things have gone well for you and your faction. I trust everything has gone to plan and that there are no loose ends remaining?” Haegon asked.

“It has all been resolved, Your Majesty. The elephants have been rounded up and imprisoned and their families kept in favourable captivity. The Red Priests have been sequestered as you asked.” Benerro.

“Good. Now, shall we proceed into the palace, or are we going to remain outside like a couple of idiots?” Haegon asked.

Benerro smiled. “Let us go inside, Your Majesty.” They turned and walked through the open doors and as they processed through the halls, Haegon saw the portraits of Targaryens and other members of the Fourteen Great Families of Valyria, and smiled. They stopped at the great room, the doors were opened for them and they entered. They stopped before the throne. Benerro spoke. “I think there should be some discussions about what was agreed, Your Majesty.”

Haegon looked at the man and said. “Very well, what are the main issues that you wish to discuss?”

Benerro took a breath the spoke. “I believe that the Elephants and their families must be destroyed. They cannot be allowed to remain present and grounded. The elephants have been in this position once before, and they were able to gain power, and not let go for one hundred and fifty years. They are opposed to you and to what you stand for. If you wish to expand the Empire, or take Westeros, you are going to need them gone. And by gone, I mean gone completely.”

“So, you suggest I become a murderer, and have innocent people killed for nothing more than their political affiliation? I am not a butcher.” Haegon pointed out.

“I am suggesting that you remove a thread before it has even the chance to become a threat. The elephants are shrewd, Your Majesty, they know what they are about. And they have ties with powers who want to see you fall. You would be best advised to see them gone.” Benerro replied.

“And is this just your position, or that of the Tigers as a whole?” Haegon asked, he knew that was a redundant question, Benerro was in essence the Tiger Party. They did not do anything without his say so.

Benerro did not answer immediately, indeed he seemed to be contemplating things. When he did respond his voice was calm and measured. “My partners agree with me. They believe that the Elephants are far too great a risk. We found a note on Laenor Qoherys person which had come from the Sealord of Braavos promising aid if they fought off or started a revolt. They must be dealt with.”

“Do you have this note?” Haegon asked.

“Yes.” Benerro fiddled around for a moment before producing the paper, he handed it to Haegon who opened it and read.

_It has come to our attention that there exists a present threat to the peace within Volantis. As Volantis is our most noble and efficient trading partner, we wish to help in whatever way we can. We know that the Tigers remain a dominant force within the city and we know they hanker for war. We also know that neither us nor you wish for war. It would destroy our fortunes and reduce our people to ash. Therefore, we ask that you institute Order 123, to ensure the safety of all people._

_Yours_

_The Sea Lord_

Haegon finished reading, and handed the letter back to Benerro. “It is genuine?” He asked, he knew the man would likely take offence at this, but he knew it needed to be asked.

“Yes, I had several non-biased sources look at it.” Benerro responded.

Haegon nodded. “And what is Order 123?” He had the feeling that he had read about this somewhere before, but where he was not quite sure.

“It is an order that was created in the age following the Doom, when the Dothraki hordes were massing around us. Should something ever truly endanger the safety of Volantis, the stores of Wildfire were to be activated.” Benerro replied.

“How much Wildfire is there in this city?” Haegon asked, he imagined that it would be quite high given the Valyrian obsession with fire.

“Around three hundred thousand barrels. Enough to destroy this city and the surrounding area.” Benerro replied without blinking.

Haegon nearly choked when he heard that. “Three hundred thousand barrels?! Why in the name of the Seven would you need so many?”

“Our ancestors deemed it prudent with the Dothraki approaching ever closer. They did not want the savages to come and take the things we held most dear. Now do you see why you must execute them? They were going to use this order to remove the people within the city without a second thought. All because they deemed you a threat.” Benerro said.

Haegon still hesitated, he did not want mass executions, he did not want to start his reign in blood. He wanted to bring both sides together. “I will speak with the elephants and then I will decide. I want them brought to me after the proclamation, is that understood?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Benerro said. Haegon nodded, then together they walked passed the throne and into the outer entrance, where the crowds had gathered. Benerro grabbed his hand and raised it high. “Long Live the King!” the crowds roared and Haegon smiled.

 

 


	98. Bloodraven VIII

 

** Chapter 98: Bloodraven VIII **

****

It was hot, so very hot, it was supposed to be Autumn and yet the sky was bright as anything, and the humidity made him sweat. He wore a cover inside and out, to prevent himself from burning under the sun. He cleared his throat, and looked at the King, and spoke. “Sire, my sources inform me that Haegon Blackfyre and the Golden Company managed to take Volantis without having to waste a single soldier in battle.” There was a pause as Brynden allowed the King to digest that information then he continued. “The Tigers led by Benerro Maegyr staged a coup after winning the elections, they arrested the elephants and cleared out the members of the city guard before arresting the red priests as well. As such they threw open the gates of the city and proclaimed Haegon Blackfyre, King.” His plan had not quite worked, but it was still in its infancy, a King would have other concerns, concerns that Calla Blackfyre would not like.

There was silence as everyone digested this, the King, Maekar, Aerion, Aegon, the Master of Ships and the Master of Coin and the Grand Maester they all digested this. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard remained expressionless. Then the King spoke. “You mean to tell me that diplomacy failed? That despite the pressure being exerted on them, the elephants could not hold back the tide. That they willingly allowed themselves to be captured, to be arrested and to be thrown out of power.”

Brynden hesitated, he knew the King was angry, he could see it in the way the man’s hands were clenched, but whether that was anger at himself or at Brynden he did not know. Brynden took a moment then answered. “Yes Sire, unfortunately, the Tigers were far too quick thinking to allow the diplomatic channels that we had thought would work, to settle in. My sources report that the Braavosi had sent a request for the Elephants to use the barrels of wildfire buried deep within the city to prevent Haegon from entering the city. When this became common knowledge, the people revolted and helped imprison them.”

“Wildfire to end the city? Are the Braavosi mad?” Aelor asked. Then he changed topic. “Regardless, the matter is at hand now, and we must decide what to do. Haegon Blackfyre with the Golden Fields and Volantis and her colonies, will be very powerful. The balance of power in the Free Cities has been disturbed, which means war is in the offering.”

“Not necessarily, Your Majesty.” Prince Aerion pointed out. “The Blackfyres will of course need to consolidate their hold over Volantis, simply holding the city and having the Tigers does nothing. And of course if we enable them to simply settle in then we will be doing our bit to ensure that they are secure. I would suggest that we continue down the path of diplomatic isolation. Braavos will not favour Volantis now, nor will Myr or Pentos, we must exert economic sanctions on them.”

“Will that do anything? I am not sure the Volanteene will much care if they are isolated they have enough to survive for three years alone, and then they’d approach the slaver cities.” The King replied.

“Sire, I think that His Royal Highness is correct, ensuring that economic sanctions are put in place is the right move to go through with. It ensures we can exercise our financial might without having to send soldiers to fight and die needlessly. Furthermore, I do not think that the Slaver cities will trade with Volantis, especially if we hit Volantis with sanctions on grain, on silver and gold, the things they need the most.” The Master of Coin said.

“What is your view on this, Bloodraven?” The King asked. “If they have imprisoned the red priests then they must be looking to remove the religious element from the city, that could be used to our advantage.”

Brynden remembered the visions he’d had, the two options that had been presented to him from those visions and he knew that to protect his daughter he would have to go with the option that might cost Westeros. “I do not think that using the red priests would be a good idea, Your Majesty. In the short term, there would be consternation and anger from the populace for using such heathens. In the long term they would look to erode the foundations of Westeros from within, as they did Volantis.”

“So, what do you suggest I do? I cannot sit here and do nothing.” The King replied. “I must ensure that the Kingdom’s interests are protected from every possible threat.”

Brynden knew he was being selfish, but he also knew that in the long term, what he was about to suggest would protect Westeros in the long term for it would prevent his daughter from ever being taken and turned into a monster. “You must implement the diplomatic sanctions and you must ensure that the armies of the kingdom are ready. And I would give Donnor Stark what he wants. Instead of trying to encourage him to send Aegor Rivers to the wall, tell him to execute him.”

“What?!” The King exclaimed. “If there is someone I should be executing it is Donnor Stark for his treason. Indeed, I should take Winterfell away from him and give it to his brother.”

“I agree with the Hand.” Prince Maekar said. “Remove Aegor Rivers, and there will be a continued sense of division within the Blackfyre camp. Calla Blackfyre will want revenge, and Haegon will want to consolidate his hold over Volantis. It will prevent more war, Your Majesty.”

“And it will sully the reputation of the Crown. King Aerys gave the order for Aegor Rivers to go to the wall. Him being executed breaks that. I am not an oath breaker.” The King retorted.

“Are you more concerned with the reputation of the Crown in wine sinks, or about preventing more war? If Aegor Rivers lives longer there will be more war, for he will never get to the Wall. Execute him now and that issue is done for.” Maekar replied.

The King seemed to be warring with this, then he eventually said. “Very well, send the order.” Brynden nodded, happy that his greatest rival would finally be removed


	99. Donnor V

** Chapter 99: Donnor V **

****

 

His marriage with Aregelle had taken place three moons ago, and he believed that his wife was with child, something the Maester had confirmed to them some three to four weeks ago. He cared for Aregelle, and perhaps even loved her and he knew she loved him. Hopefully their marriage could bring peace to the north and ensure that the divisions within his realm were healed. Right now though he had other things to do.

The door opened, light filtered briefly into the cell, Donnor stepped in and stopped before the figure. He looked at the man, chained, beaten, bleeding and broken. That was how he wanted all prisoners to look, all prisoners to feel, they would never again threaten the north. “Aegor Rivers. A man who knows a lot and yet did not know when to flee from the field of battle. How fitting then that you are being torn apart here.”

Aegor Rivers stared at him, his eyes were bloodshot, and his face was bloodied. “What do you want boy? Have you not gotten enough from me? You have taken everything from me.”

“Well come now, we know that’s not true.” Donnor replied. “You still have your sanity, your balls, and your cock and your hands. That’s more than I gave Lord Bolton when things were done there.” It was true, the former Lord Bolton who had succeeded the previous one had been a stubborn shit who Donnor had delighted in breaking down to nothingness. “Now, what I want to tell you is that there has been an order from King’s Landing. The King wants you executed. It seems they’ve finally realised you are more of a threat alive than dead.”

Aegor Rivers laughed. “I don’t believe you. They would never allow me to die. I am their kin regardless of what I have done. And furthermore, they would never try to make me a martyr to the Blackfyre cause. Therefore, you are lying.” The man seemed to almost be pleading with him.

Donnor took a savage delight in pulling out the letter and forcing it in front of him. He held the torch out for him to read. The man read it and his breath caught. Donnor laughed. “See, why would I lie to you? You have been my prisoner, and technically I have broken the feudal contract by keeping you here, and they should be asking for my head. And yet they have given me a way out.”

Aegor looked at him, blinking. “Then why are you talking to me, why not take me out into the courtyard and execute me? Or are you going to continue to torture me for your own sadistic pleasure?”

Donnor feigned outrage. “You think I am truly that sadistic? No, heavens no. I’m not going to torture you, but I would like to talk to you.” He fell silent then, allowing it to stretch on to frustrate a man like Rivers who delighted in combat and continued action.

As he had expected, Rivers replied quite sharply. “Well, get on with it then!”

Donnor laughed. “Oh no, we’re not going to talk now. You’re going to be cleaned up and washed, and shaved, then we shall talk. You have to look presentable for a Lord Paramount, after all.” With that he turned, clapped his hands and walked out. He made his way to his solar, and entered, then sat down, with a copy of a document he wanted Rivers to sign. A few moments later, Rivers entered, dressed in black, his beard shaved, his skin fresh though the wounds were still there. The man took a seat opposite Donnor and looked at him.

“What is that?” He said pointing to the letter.

Donnor smiled. “That, my friend is a letter that you are going to be presenting to someone once we have finished speaking.” Rivers simply stared at him. Donnor continued. “You see, whilst the Crown might want you dead, and I might want you dead, I think there is more use to you for now anyway, than an immediate execution. I think the Targaryen dynasty is at a point right now where one little push could turn it upside down. Your nephew Haegon Blackfyre rules as King of Volantis and currently faces a dangerous journey. However, that is not my concern. My concern is protecting the north from any future war that those fools get involved in. And I want to increase the share of riches the north gets.”

Rivers stared at him and asked. “How can I help you get that?”

Donnor smiled. “You see, Aegor, you are a great military commander, but not a great thinker. I think you need a bit of clearing out up there.” He tapped his forehead. “Let me put it to you this way. You are more use to me alive than dead, and as such you are going to remain alive for the time being.”

Rivers did not seem to believe him. “How do I know that you are not lying? After all you are a man who had kept me hidden from the people in King’s Landing and only revealed it to them when it suited you. Though of course you could simply be doing this as a distraction and Bloodraven could be riding to Winterfell as we speak.”

Donnor snorted. “Bloodraven is not coming here. And you, my friend are going to be the contact I have that will ensure the north’s survival. And as such my friend you are going to be leaving Winterfell, not to meet your maker, but to a ship.”

“And where is this ship taking me?” Aegor Rivers asked.

Donnor said nothing for a moment, he pushed the paper forward. “Sign this and you will learn everything you need to know.”

Rivers looked at the paper and then read it, when he’d finished he took the quill waiting for him. He signed the paper, then looked at Donnor. “Where is this ship taking me?”

Donnor grinned. “Why Volantis of course.”


	100. Aegor VII

** Chapter 100: Aegor VII **

****

 

Aegor felt trapped, the ship was one of the best that the Night’s Watch had to offer, and yet it was nothing compared to the ships that he had seen in his lifetime. It was smaller more compact and definitely tighter than other ships that he had been on. His wounds were perhaps playing a major effect on his composure and his health. He knew that there were things that needed to be done but truth be told he was too tired to do them. Being wounded, being tortured all of it was beginning to negatively affect his psyche.

The door to his cabin opened and the ship’s captain walked in. “You know that the more time you spend within the cabin, the more time the people on this ship are going to think that you are deliberately avoiding them.”

Aegor looked at the captain. “I don’t particularly give a fuck. Whether they think I am normal or not. I am tired and I think I have deserved some rest.” Truth be told he avoided everyone on the ship. He did not trust them, he did not know them, and he really did not want to do anything other than sleep.

“Which is a shame, as there is a lot of things that are happening, above this deck, and there is a lot of news coming from the rest of the world. Did you know that the Red Priests of Asshai are mustering men to fight Volantis, after your nephew executed the red priests.” The captain said. “You know your nephew continues to do things which annoy his neighbours. Braavos and Pentos are allied against him, and Lys and Tyrosh are looking to do something against him.”

Aegor looked at the man, he was not sure whether the man was telling the truth or not. On the one hand he did not think that Haegon was so foolish as to do something like this, on the other hand he was certain that the boy would probably have done something foolish. “And where have you gotten this news from?”

“We received word from our sources when we last docked in.” The captain said.

Aegor looked at the captain and asked. “And why are you aiding Donnor Stark in this? I would have thought the Night’s Watch would want nothing more to do with the squabbles of the Starks, especially after the last time they got involved.”

The captain sighed. “That is the problem with you southerners. You do not and never have understood that the Night’s Watch has and will always be puppets to the Starks. They are always going to have listen to the beck and call of Winterfell. They provide food, arms and men. The Night’s Watch is nothing more than Winterfell’s little whipping boy and always will be.”

“So, you are nothing more than puppets, waiting hand and foot on Winterfell. Does that not grate? You are an ancient institution that defends the wall from Wildlings, grumpkins and snarks. How do you live with yourself? Are you doing this because you want to, or because you have been told to?” Aegor asked.

The captain sighed. “I am doing this because it is my duty, and because I believe that this is something that needs to be done. The Kingdom has struggled through several wars that have done nothing to benefit us, and as such, you are someone who could be beneficial.”

“How very interesting.” Aegor said, just as something groaned in the ship. It clanged again. The captain stuck his hand out telling Aegor to stay where he was. The captain disappeared, and Aegor remained seated, digesting what he had heard. It seemed that things were a lot more complicated in the north than he had thought or been led to believe.

Something happened then, there was a crash, a shout, and then Aegor had to grab his weapon. His sword was at his side, he struggled up onto his feet, prepared to handle those who were evidently on the ship. He went to open the door, found it barred, he swore, and sat back down. He heard the fighting that was happening above ground and wished that he could do more. He didn’t care about the people on the ship, but he was a warrior, and he knew that he needed to fight to get some of the anger and frustration that had been present in his system out.

Something changed then, the door flew open and figures stormed in. He killed the first one with two blows, then moved onto the second man, a sword swing here, a dodge there and a flash of the blade and the second man was dead. “He’s here!” He heard shouted, Aegor grinned expecting a good fight. He got it. The enemy came out and swung their swords, and he defeated them, wetting his appetite for more action. More came and they were dealt with in the same manner, sword through their guts and pulled out. These were clearly not regulars based on their weak armour. He wondered who it could be who had intercepted the ship.

As Aegor thought that another opponent came and hit his sword out of his hand. They then wrestled with him before knocking him to the ground. They kicked him hard and maintained that attitude for some time, before stopping. Another person entered his cabin as he wheezed. His head was forced up and he stared into the eye of a man he had not seen for months. “Hello brother.” Bloodraven said. “You’re coming with us.”

Aegor snarled something at his brother, but he couldn’t hear the words. All he heard was the sound of his head getting hit over the head before a blackness took him.


	101. Aelora VI

** Chapter 101: Aelora VI **

****

 

“You know, there are times when I wonder why the seasons in Westeros are so strange. There are parts of the world where apparently, it is freezing and snowing, and yet here it is the middle of Rhaenys Month and it is boiling hot. I just don’t understand it!” Aelora grumbled.

Aerion laughed, their four-moon old son Jaehaerys resting in his arms, whilst their daughter Maegelle asleep in her crib. “You know, I think I read somewhere it had to do with something that happened during the Dawn Age. Something to do with the Children and their meddling in things they really shouldn’t have.”

Aelora looked at her husband. “Sweetheart, the children existed centuries ago, and all the records that aren’t stories say that they were just midgets with good fighting skills. I highly doubt that they would be able to control the weather.”

Aerion laughed again, she loved to hear him laughing, especially after the trying time they’d all been having recently. “I know, but who knows they could’ve farted their way into changing the weather. Considering some of what Jaehaerys does!”

Aelora couldn’t help it she swatted her husband and laughed alongside him. Then when she’d stopped she took a breath and said. “You know with everything that’s happened, I’m surprised Bloodraven is still Hand of the King. Though knowing Aelor he probably wants to keep the man there as a scapegoat and for his usefulness as a spy.”

Aegor Rivers had gone missing as Donnor Stark had gone to take him to a place where his execution would be made public. Where he was no one knew, and Aelora remembered hearing her brother roaring at his council a moon or two ago when that had become apparent. Aerion sighed, he had as Master of the Army been working over time looking for all sorts of information. “I know, I think that Bloodraven has something up his sleeve that is keeping your brother hopeful. Otherwise I think he would have been arrested long before now. I think the fact that he has managed to capture a whole entire house full of traitors helped there.”

Aelora hummed in agreement, there had been some ten or twelve members of a minor house found with documents from Volantis on their person, no one had known anything about this until Bloodraven had apprehended them and paraded them in front of the court. “Do you think that Haegon Blackfyre is truly considering attacking again so soon?”

“I don’t think so. I am more concerned about the north than Haegon Blackfyre truth be told.” Aerion replied.

“Has Lonnel written about the mood in the north?” Aelora asked. Aerion had by his own initiative sent his oldest friend, Lonnel Snow to Winterfell to figure out what was happening in the north and to prevent Donnor Stark doing something foolish.

Aerion nodded. “He writes that things in the north vary between being exceedingly good and exceedingly bad. He is still in Barrowton, he suspects his nephew wants not to see him for some reason or the other.”

Aelora noticed the concern in her husband’s voice and she asked. “Are you sure things are okay with him?” There had been some things said between her husband and his oldest friend and Aerion rarely mentioned him anymore.

“I don’t know, truth be told. One moment I think that things are okay and that Lonnel sees things from our perspective, the next he says something that reminds me of his northern status.” Aerion replied, running a hand through his hair. “The only thing I know for sure is, is that if Donnor Stark continues playing games the north will face an invasion.”

“You think he truly is playing games then? That he’s not just seriously incompetent?” Aelora asked. Mother thought Donnor Stark, like his uncle before him was as incompetent as King Aerys had been. She was not so sure.  Aegon seemed to think he was doing something or the other. But then he’d been a boy when Aegon had met him.

“I don’t know. I think he wants to blackmail the throne and get things out of the crown that would never be considered acceptable in any other circumstances. But Aelor is terrified of Donnor declaring independence and therefore I think the man is taking a gamble on what he can and cannot get away with.” Aerion said.

“So, do you truly think it will come to war?” Aelora asked worried. “Haegon Blackfyre sits in Volantis, getting more powerful by the day. How do we know he won’t strike if we’re too busy fighting the north? It’s so big and vast, what is there to say that we won’t just waste men there?”

“I don’t know, Aelora. I really don’t know.” Aerion replied sounding tired. “All I know is, is that the King is getting more and more annoyed with Donnor Stark, and some on the small council are urging action. Father for one.”

“But isn’t Uncle Maekar the one person who always argued that the north was too dangerous to invade by land? That the forces would get stopped at Moat Cailin and bogged down?” Aelora asked.

“Yes, without internal help.” Aerion said simply.

Aelora raised an eyebrow. “Does that mean there are those within the north willing to deal with Donnor?”

“I think it’s not just within the north, but the Stark family itself.” Aerion said. “I do not know for sure. All I know is that we need some resolution to what is happening, otherwise, I do think things will not  be very pleasant.”

Aelora nodded, then she gestured to their son, Aerion rose and placed their son in his cradle and stretched. “You look exhausted, sweetheart, perhaps it is time to get some rest?”

Aerion hummed in agreement. “Yes, I think so.” With that he helped her rise and get changed before they got into bed, the moment her husband’s head hit the pillow he was fast asleep. It took her some more time to fall asleep, her mind a whir with everything they’d discussed.


	102. Donnor VI

** Chapter 102: Donnor VI **

****

The summer snows were giving way to Autumn, you could feel it in the air, there was a sense that the humidity and the spurts that had come during summer were finally ending. Donnor was looking forward to autumn for it meant that his plans could finally be realised and as such, he could ensure the prosperity of the north. Of course, his brother, his wife and the Maester were all unsure of what he was doing, and he had felt it necessary to inform them of this.

Willam sat to his left, Aregelle-showing the signs that she had just had a child- to his right, and the Maester in front of him. “Aegor Rivers was successfully captured by forces loyal to the King, and as such they now have him in their custody. Brynden Rivers, the Hand of the King wrote to confirm as such to me.” Donnor said. “I am sure you have all wondered why I kept the man here for so long when common sense dictated that I let him go to the wall. The answer for that is simple. I needed something from him. I needed to break him down for revenge for Father and for Mother. I needed to ensure he was so broken he would give me what I wanted.” He paused allowing this information to be digested. “When it was announced he was going to the wall, His Majesty, King Aerys wrote to me to ask me to do just this. To break Aegor Rivers and make it so that he could never again take up arms against the throne. I was happy to oblige. Of course I wanted to gain something from it. Therefore, I made him sign this document, before he left.” Donnor held up the paper. “In it, he promises to never raise a hand against the north either as an independent soldier, or as a member of the Blackfyre Golden Company. I also ensured that he would give me eighty percent of his holdings in Westeros, which I can confirm members of the House Bracken have handed over. I did this to increase my wealth, the transaction was done through means of the Stark claim on that land dating back to the time of our great-grandfather. Finally, I kept him here for as long as I did because I wanted to make this King sweat. He was always going to be returned to the throne.”

A long silence followed this, then Willam asked. “Can I see the document?” Donnor handed it to him, and his studious brother read through it. “There is no mention of land here. Only the mention of never picking up arms against the north. And something to do with the Blackfyres granting favourable trading contracts to Winterfell in the event of their restoration. Where did the land come from?”

Donnor laughed. “Look closely at the fine print, brother. Look at the words within the margins.”

His brother did just that, and when he had finished he exclaimed. “You got Aegor Rivers to essentially admit that the Blackfyres were illegitimate and that therefore his forfeited land was there for being shared out between those loyal to the crown? How did you achieve that?”

“I played on his ego. The wording of this document was done to ensure that Rivers thought that I would support him and his protégé in return for trade and for a chance to get back at the Targaryens. I also ensured that whilst he was being tortured that I slipped in the fact that I did not think highly of the Targaryens. When he came to discuss things with me, that was all there in his mind, if not directly, then definitely subconsciously. It was rather easy to ensure that he did this.” Donnor pointed out.

“Did the crown know about this?” Willam asked.

“The King? No. Bloodraven, yes.” Donnor said.

“Why would the Hand of the King not tell the King this?” Willam demanded.

It was Aregelle who answered. “Because the King is not concerned about getting justice, the King is concerned with ensuring the crown’s reputation remains intact.” His wife looked at him then. “You were the person who could break Aegor Rivers down into nothing, to allow for a serious concession and ensure that he would not harm us again. The Hand knew this, and therefore encouraged King Aerys to send Aegor north, thus ridding them of any responsibility for dealing with torture or any other such method that would taint them by association of kinship.”

“Exactly.” Donnor replied.

“But surely Aegor Rivers would have read through what he was signing? He does not seem to be the type of person not to.” William said.

The Maester spoke then. “I do not think someone be they Aegor Rivers or Pate the stable boy could survive through the interrogation and torture that Aegor Rivers was put through and still keep all their wits intact.” The man looked at Donnor slightly disapprovingly. “I suppose that was necessary, my lord?”

“Yes, very much so. There could be no chance in anyone thinking otherwise. I know the northern lords are deeply disturbed with what I have done, but I promise you that we have gained from this.” Donnor said. “Indeed, there should be a treaty coming any day now, with the new financial agreements with the Crown.”

There was a long silence, then Willam asked. “Will anyone actually tell the King this? Because I can barely believe that this is a fact. If the King is not told what is there to stop him for going after you for this treason?”

“It is not treason if it is done to ensure that the nation’s best interests are done away from the sovereign who might not be best equipped for doing what needs to be done.” Donnor shot back.

There was a brief pause, then Willam said. “You’re going to have to speak with Uncle Lonnel about all of this, he’s here for the Crown, he’s going to want to speak with you.”

Donnor laughed. “I’ve already spoken with dear Uncle Lonnel, he was aware of the plan from the moment the Blackfyres set foot in Westeros last time.”

“So why has he been sent here?” Willam asked.

“To keep up appearances.” Aregelle surmised. “Bloodraven wants to appear strong to the King and keep his position, that requires sending a sharp reminder to someone the King considers dangerous.”

“Indeed it does.” Donnor replied. “Luckily, the King now owes Winterfell.”


	103. Aelor IV

** Chapter 103: Aelor IV **

****

 

“You mean to tell me that this whole time that I have been thinking that Donnor Stark was some sort of traitor, he was actually acting on the orders my predecessor had given him, and therefore doing things that were within the remit of the feudal duties?” Aelor asked, barely keeping his voice down. He wanted to roar and scream, Bloodraven had just told him the truth about Donnor Stark’s little escapades with Aegor Rivers.

“Yes Your Majesty.” Bloodraven said.

“And why did you not think it wise to tell me any of this?” Aelor demanded. “I have spent the past half a year worrying that Donnor Stark is doing more to make Aegor Rivers a martyr for the Blackfyre cause, and that we might have to wage war on the north, when I could have simply enjoyed Rivers being humiliated. Why did you not tell me of this?” He looked at his Uncle Maekar. “And you, Uncle? You knew about this as well and said nothing. Why?”

Bloodraven replied before his Uncle could. “This was a plan made by King Aerys who was willing to push things. I was not sure if you would be willing to do the same, Your Majesty. You are young and you are to be quite frank, an idealist. I did not think you would have the stomach to do what needed to be done.”

Aelor bristled for a moment, and then stopped. “So, instead of asking me whether I would be okay with this or not, you simply decided to go ahead and take action. An action, might I add that could have cost us everything. Be it the north, peace, or something else. You are lucky that you are a good Hand, otherwise I’d be executing you right now.” Wisely Bloodraven said nothing he merely nodded. Aelor decided that he did not wish to obsess on this for too long and so said. “Wherever you are keeping him, I want you to remove his hands, so that he can never take up arms against us. And I want you to cut out his tongue so that he can never speak against us.” The council chamber was filled with stunned silence. Aelor merely laughed. He then turned the conversation to another matter. “Now, what word is there from the situation in Essos?”

Here, it was Aerion who as Commander of the Army knew much more about the military operations of both their allies and their enemies than anyone else. “Sire, Braavos has been preparing their fleet for the past few weeks. Pentos has signed an agreement with Braavos allowing them to hire sellswords and Dothraki to fight. Myr and Tyrosh have been paying for sellsword companies as well. It seems that they are all preparing for war.”

“And Volantis?” Aelor asked, he wanted to know what the man who wanted his throne was doing more than any other thing.

“Volantis has got its men on standby, Sire.” Bloodraven said. “It seems that they have already got an alliance with Tyrosh and Myr, Lys seems to be contemplating which side to go to. I believe with the right wheels being greased we can get them to side with us.”

“Then grease them.” Aelor commanded, he would not sit around and wait for the Blackfyres to attack him or his allies. “Is there any chance that a diplomatic solution can be found or is that simply wishful thinking at this stage?” He did not wish to send more men to their graves, and he was not entirely sure he wanted to fight another war. He would do so if he needed to, but he wished to avoid it at all costs.

“Sire, I think the time for diplomacy has ended. Now there can only be war. The Blackfyres will never let up. And if they can properly cement their control of Volantis then we shall definitely be facing an alliance or even a possible resurgence of the Valyrian Empire which would harm the Kingdom’s interests.” Bloodraven replied.

“I agree with the Hand, Sire.” The Master of Coin said. “I think that whilst the execution of so many red priests is a good thing, it is the shifting power balance in the region that will be a growing concern. Other than Braavos, Volantis has always had a powerful navy, and now with that navy augmented by a standing army, we are facing the very real possibility that the free cities will fall like dominoes.”

“Then perhaps it would be best if we were to send the ravens out to the lords of the realm to inform them that war is a possibility. We cannot hang back and wait as we did the last time. If Volantis invades us, we might not win.” Aelor surmised.

“I would not be so sure of that, Sire.” Aerion replied, sounding slightly hurt by what he’d said. “I think we would win knowing the terrain and such. But I do think it would be better if we were prepared and attacked them first. Get our allies together, form a common strategy and attack from there.”

“My son is right, Sire.” Uncle Maekar said. “We must prepare to attack them first, the advantage of surprise is just that.”

Aelor nodded. “I agree.” He looked at the Hand, a man he was growing to distrust and said. “Send the word out to the lords.” The man nodded.

Bloodraven then brought up a point that Aelor had known he was going to bring up for some time. “If you are going off to war, Your Majesty, you must consider marrying and ensuring that your bride is with child.”

“I am aware.” Aelor replied, waiting for the man to get to the point.

“There are a few potential brides who would make good candidates, Sire. Two are from the north, and that could potentially help heal any divisions that are present with that region, or there is Melissa or Betha Blackwood,” Aegon made a noise then. “And then of course there are those closer to home.” The hand finished.

Aelor rose. “I am aware, I shall inform the council of my decision on the morrow.” With that he left the chamber and made his way back to where Rhae was waiting for him. He kissed her and whispered. “Let’s do it tonight. I cannot wait any longer.” He smiled when she replied.

“Let’s do it now.”


	104. Rohanne II

** Chapter 104: Rohanne II **

****

Rohanne knew that feeling this way was not going to change anything, her son had made up his mind and like his brothers and father before him, when Haegon set his mind to something it was incredibly difficult to change it. She knew that all she could do was try and speak with him one last time, to see whether anything had changed or not. If it had then she could work with that, if it hadn’t? Well she would think of that when she got to it.

Her son was sat reading a letter when she stopped before him. He looked up and she spoke. “Are you sure this is the right thing to do? Braavos has never lost a war before. Even with Myr and Tyrosh there is no guarantee that you will win.”

Haegon sighed. “I must try Mother. I must ensure that my position is secure, and I can only do that if those who oppose me are not in a position to do so for a sustained period of time.”

“And are you doing this because you want to do it, or because you feel you have to? You know that Calla has been doing a lot to antagonise people throughout Volantis and the Free Cities with her letters. You could have prevented this by simply arresting her.” Rohanne pointed out, it hurt her to speak of her own daughter like this, but she felt she had no choice. Calla had verged into insanity.

“I let her send those letters because I felt it would be a good way of allowing her to vent some of her anger out. Calla has become obsessed with getting Uncle Aegor out of prison, to the detriment of all else. Her letters are not the cause of this current situation we find ourselves in. The Braavosi were always going to attack as they find the Tigers to be upsetting the balance of power.” Haegon answered, in a manner similar to Daemon before he embarked on his failed rebellion.

“But that does not mean things couldn’t have been solved peacefully. The Tigers have been removed from power, and the Company is in charge. You could have tried to reach some sort of peaceful resolution with the Braavosi and with the Lyseni, and even the Iron Throne. Why didn’t you?” Rohanne asked, knowing she was pleading now.

“Because Braavos never wanted peace. They will never want peace so long as we sit here. And I do not intend to leave. Volantis is home now. I refuse to have to live in a shit stained tent, in the middle of a fucking field.” Haegon said with anger.

“So, the fact that Westeros has gotten involved? With Aelor Targaryen presumably leading the charge on that front? That is just a coincidence?” Rohanne asked.

“I think that you know the answer to that question, Mother.” Haegon replied. “I am not seeking the throne now, but if Targaryen deems himself worthy of challenging me, then challenge me, he shall. And I will be there to fight him.”

Rohanne sighed, and turned to leave, but before she could, Haegon spoke. “Mother, I know you do want more dead, but this is something that will inevitably happen. I do not want war either, I want to be able to get to know my wife and children, yet if people insist on attacking me and mine, I must fight back. I cannot bend over and accept it. It is not my nature.”

Rohanne nodded, then she asked. “Do you want the Iron Throne?” That was the most serious question she could think of asking. Calla demanded things with every passing day, but Haegon resisted them.

“I…I do not know.” Haegon answered.

Before she could reply, the door opened and Calla walked in. “What don’t you know, brother?”

Calla increasingly looked like she was preparing to be crowned Queen, she wore elaborate dresses, with jewelled tiaras, and she constantly snubbed Haegon’s wife. Rohanne could see the tension evident within his face. “I did not know whether I wished to claim the Iron Throne or not, sister.”

Rohanne spoke then before Calla could explode. “Of course with the current war looming with Braavos and other Free Cities, that is understandable. Now, if you excuse me, I must be going off.”

She made to walk away, but before she could, Calla spoke. “No, Mother, wait here please. I wish for you to hear this.”

Rohanne swallowed, turned and watched as Calla continued. “Aegor is rotting in some god forsaken Westerosi cell right now because he believes in your right to the throne. In our father’s right to the throne. He did not do it so that you could squander the very same opportunities that you had once before, by sitting here and fighting with the Free Cities. He did not do it so that you could hide behind the Black Walls and rule a city. He wanted you to rule a Kingdom!”

Haegon snarled back. “And I do not want to send more of my brothers to die in a war that we cannot win. The Targaryens have support galore in Westeros, they have destroyed whatever support we might have had. We would be foreign invaders, and we would not get any support from the lords. I will not send my brothers to die.”

“With that attitude of course we will lose.” Calla snarled back. “I did not take you for a coward.”

“Calla, enough!” Rohanne snapped standing between her son and daughter.

“Of course you’d side with him.” Calla snapped. “You’ve never wanted anyone to claim the throne that is rightfully our family’s. I think you lost your spine when father died. Did you even love him?”

Rohanne slapped her daughter then and replied. “I have always loved your father, and if I do not want more of my children dying then can you blame me?” With that she pushed passed her daughter and walked out.


	105. Maekar XII

** Chapter 105: Maekar XII **

****

Maekar despised ships, he always had. They moved and they did things that he considered not natural, there was the constant movement on turbulent waves which really got him. And yet, here he was, commanding a host of men split across two ships, with Ser Maron Manderly, serving as Captain of the Ocean Master, the ship he was resident on. Manderly seemed like a good man, and therefore, Maekar was inclined to trust him, far more than he was Donnor Stark, who was on another ship that was part of this detachment. That man was strange, very strange, almost like a Bolton.

“Ships ahead, Your Royal Highness.” Manderly said, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Can you see what flags they fly?” Maekar asked. He’d fought on a ship twice before, once against pirates, and another time against Daemon Blackfyre. Both times he’d won, and both times he’d come out with scars.

“It seems to be the pirates of the Lothriginians make up, Your Royal Highness.” Manderly replied handing him the telescope.

Maekar pressed the thing to his eye and looked through it. Manderly was right, there he could spot a skull, with a flaming sword coming out of its eye. The sign of the Lothriginians, the worst of the pirates that operated in the Stepstones, they’d been paid by Tyrosh to fight for them. “Prepare the ships for engagement.” Maekar commanded. The man nodded and an order was barked out.

As the enemy got closer, the order was given for the ships to get into formation, a skull shape was formed, and Maekar marvelled at the speed with which the navy operated. Lord Redwyne was clearly very good at his duty. Soon enough they were there preparing for the onslaught. It came with the sounding of a horn as was custom. Manderly barked out orders and the ship was loaded with scorpions, the moment the enemy ships got close, the bolts were unleashed.

Maekar watched as they crashed into the enemy ship, he watched as men on the other side fell, clutching their sides, daring to breathe but also dying in agony. This happened perhaps three or four times before, Manderly barked out another order and they were moving away from the enemy ship, its men all dead. They crashed into another ship, Maekar drew his mace from his side and prepared to board. There was a fierce fight. Ser Willem Wylde of the Kingsguard nearly slipped on the floor, given how wet it was that was not a surprise.

The man righted himself, and followed Maekar as they boarded the enemy ship, the pirates were prepared for them. Maekar was always amazed that pirates could follow another man, given the fact that they were pirates. Sometimes he doubted their words, and felt they were just business owners who claimed to be pirates to avoid paying taxes. Regardless, they all died the same. These fools were not wearing proper armour, but some thin sheets, and so when his mace hit them, their chests popped with alarming sounds. One or two attempted to fight back, but they died just as easily as their comrades.

The real test came when the apparent captain of the ship approached him wielding two swords, Maekar had to keep a very close eye on the movement of the man’s hands, and where he placed his feet. One misstep and things could go very badly for him. The man moved in a regular rhythm that was fairly easy for him to pick up on after a few moments where he blocked the man’s blows and came very close to falling off the ship. The man moved quickly, but if he couldn’t get an initial blow to land he always leaned on his left foot. Maekar decided to test his strength. He pushed forward, his mace and body weight leading the way. He pressed into the man and knocked one of his swords out of his hand. Making the man lose composure and go for broke.

Maekar kept pushing, swinging his mace this way and that, breaking the man’s defences down until he was throwing his weight this way and that, without a care in the world as to proper form. That made it much easier for Maekar to simply swat him away and then push him through and out the ship. The next man who came his way wielded a mace as well. Maekar took some pleasure in beating him. He was a big lad, who used his size as cover for his lack of skill. He moved in one direction and when Maekar broke through his defences, he became a brawler. He fell down easily enough.

Another ship had appeared then and they were boarding this current one to try and aid their fellow pirates. Maekar bellowed a challenge when the enemy came. He found ways to dance around the corpses of the pirates and some of his men, and then he pushed his advantage and broke through their ranks. The pirates were brawlers, but they were terrible and fighting properly. They leaned too much on either strength or scrapping. They could not handle Maekar’s feints and precision. And as such they were always going to suffer under him. Once the enemy was dead. Manderly ordered some men back onto the Ocean Master and they continued, fighting whichever enemy came toward them.

At the end of it all, Tyrosh opened its gates to them, and allowed them to set the course of things. The Archon was deposed and Kiera of Tyrosh’s brother was restored to power. They did not stay long though, at least Maekar did not, he prepared his squadron for departure, and in the waiting time spoke with Manderly about something that had bothered him.

“What do you make of Donnor Stark?” Maekar asked.

“I think he is a decent man, Your Royal Highness. I cannot claim to know him too well, but everything I’ve seen of him, seems to indicate a decent man.” Manderly responded.

Maekar nodded, sensing that perhaps loyalty to the Starks meant that the man could not talk negatively of his liege lord. That would need to change for the good of the realm.


	106. Aegon VIII

** Chapter 106: Aegon VIII **

****

The ship moved in a constant flow, preventing him from feeling any sort of sickness, and yet Aegon knew that things wouldn’t get better from here, they might get worse or they might remain the same. Safe to say he did not like ships, and though he knew he needed to be here as a commander in the King’s army, he really wished that he could’ve remained in Tyrosh. The King had decreed that Tyrosh was to become a vassal of the Iron Throne, and that Kiera of Tyrosh, who had once been married to Valarr would marry a member of the family, who though had not been specified. There had been some confusion as to why the King had not simply declared Kiera his wife, though Aegon suspected he knew the answer. Regardless, they were now all sailing for Lys, the Stepstones had been cleared of pirates by Father and his squadron and so there was just the battle to go.

“Are you okay, lad?” Ser Duncan asked. The man had started getting little flecks of white in his hair, though of course Aegon would never say that to him. He might be twenty-one now, but he knew Ser Duncan would still clout him around the ear.

“Aye, I think so. I just want to get all this fighting over and done with. Ships do not agree with me.” Aegon replied.

“I don’t blame you, the sea is a cruel mistress, and that’s on her good days. When she’s in a foul mood well, the Seven only knows what she will do.” Ser Duncan replied. “But I do not think that is what is really bothering you, so, come on lad, tell me what it is.”

“I do not know why but something about Aelor’s vagueness about who Kiera would marry is bothering me. I think it was just how nonchalant he was about the whole thing. It’s almost as if he already has some one in mind, and that he is off the table. But he has not mentioned any prospective bride for himself, and marrying Kiera would be a good option for him.” Aegon said.

“Are you worried that he will suggest you and that you will not get to marry Lady Betha?” Ser Duncan asked.

Aegon turned to look at the man and asked. “What do you mean?”

“Oh come off it, lad, I know you, and I know you’ve been writing to her nonstop. I think you are concerned he will suggest you for Kiera, though there is no need for that. More than likely he will recommend Daeron, and that will be that.” Ser Duncan replied.

“I suppose that is true, but then why did he leave the choice open? By doing that he is insulting the Archon and also inviting something that he might not be able to live up to. The Archon is sure to expect Kiera to marry Aelor.” Aegon stated.

“Well that is something for the King to worry about, not you, lad.” Ser Duncan reasoned.

“If the King does something that angers the Archon, our rear will be damaged and we will have a harder time getting back home.” Aegon pointed out. “So, yes it is my concern.”

Ser Duncan sighed. “You know we could just avoid all of this needless circus if you just admitted to the reality of the situation.”

“What do you mean?” Aegon asked, looking around to make sure no one else was listening in.

“You know the King and Princess Rhae are in love, and you know that I know, and you know that they are considering marriage. You harbour a fear that the King will foist Kiera onto you because of this, because even though Daeron is sober and the heir to Summerhall, he is nothing. You however, stand a chance of gaining Harrenhal should the Lothstons die out, and with it a sizeable income.” Ser Duncan said, sometimes, Aegon was astounded at his political acumen.

“You’re right, I am. I’m terrified of it happening. I do not want to marry Kiera, but I will if the King commands it.” Aegon replied. “But I would much rather marry Betha.”

“Then tell the King that, I am sure he will understand. There is no harm, you are not expected to inherit the throne, the King is a young man, and there should be many years in front of him.” Ser Duncan suggested. “Speak with him, and ensure that he knows what you want.”

“Do you think that will truly work?” Aegon asked. “The King might agree, but will Father, and will the Hand? I think they are more concerning.” It was true the Hand was powerful, as was Father and Father was head of the family.

“The King is the head of the royal family. His word is final, you yourself told me this.” Ser Duncan pointed out. “His approval matters more than anyone else’s. And I am sure he will grant it, if you point out the benefits that he will get.”

“You mean blackmail him? My own cousin?” Aegon asked horrified.

“If you wish to marry Betha Blackwood, then yes. I would think you would do whatever necessary to ensure you married her. Just as the King is no doubt doing everything he can to ensure he marries Rhae.” Ser Duncan said.

Before Aegon could respond to this, the Captain of the Ship, Ser Monford Velaryon approached him and said. “Your Royal Highness, Lys is in sight.”

Aegon stood up and sure enough, there before them was the island city of Lys, home to pleasure houses and if rumour were to be believed a bastard or two of Aerion’s. “Very well, prepare the ship for potential conflict.” Aegon commanded. The man bowed and hurried off to fulfil the order. Aegon turned to Ser Duncan and said. “I shall think on what you said, Ser, for now though we had both best prepare for war.” The knight nodded and together they prepared. Who knew what the middle would bring?


	107. Aerion XVII

** Chapter 107: Aerion XVII **

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“Hold steady lads, we’ve got a big one coming.” Aerion shouted as the enemy ships approached. After a few days of patrolling, the order had come in, the Lyseni were approaching and they needed to handle them as best as possible. After the fight to take Tyrosh, Aerion had spent most of his time preparing the ship, and getting to know his men. Lonnel had come with the northern host, and had soon re-joined him, but in a different frame of mind than before. Aerion was not sure what had changed in his friend, and he’d been far too busy to ask him about it.

Now they were both drawing their weapons, preparing for the inevitable clash as the Lyseni galleys came barrelling toward them. Aerion nodded at Lonnel who sounded the horn, the men got into formation and off they went. Solidly behind the front and between the centre. The ship barged into them, they fired off scorpions and then prepared to board. Aerion brought his Morningstar to full face, crushing the first man to come his way. Another man came and met the same fate. He pushed a third man over board, marvelling at the strength adrenaline gave him. On they went, pushing and dominating, his armour splatted with blood, thankfully not his own.

When they had finished dealing with that ship, they returned to their own, finding it in reasonable state, they moved forward. Lys was on the horizon, and their goal was to take it and completely subdue it for the King. Another ship came, and this time, the scorpions took out archers on the other side, before moving onward. Ser Gaemon Celtigar commander of the ship came to him then and said. “Your Royal Highness, we’re taking some delays, the enemy ship hit us harder than expected.”

Aerion considered this and then replied. “If we use the scorpions and the fire lines to put off other ships, will we be able to get to Lys?”

“I think so, yes. But, Your Royal Highness, doing so might bring further problems, if we get there before the other ships.” Celtigar said.

“That is a risk we shall have to take.” Aerion said. “Men, prepare the fire lines.” There was a general rushing about then as men got ready to fire off arrows into the distant sky. They were prepared and waiting for him to give the command, he said a quick prayer then barked. “Fire!” Arrows went up by the dozen and plunged the sky and the water into fire. He knew they’d have only a few moments before the enemy realised what they were doing. “Full speed ahead, Captain!” He roared. He held onto the side as the ship jerked and then picked up pace.

The ship moved as quickly as it was able to, and Aerion watched as more than one ship tried to approach them but were cut off by the fire. He’d learned that trick from a book that Aelora had given him about the Valyrian Freehold. As such it seemed to be working. Lys got closer and closer, to the point where he could realistically call. “Prepare for landing.” His men were around him, Lonnel there, a spear in his hands, and a sword strapped to his side. They reached the port, and the ladder was thrown down. Aerion jumped down, taking his morning star from his squire. The enemy approached cautiously. “Aim for the palace.” He yelled swinging his Morningstar first.

The Lyseni were better fighters on land then sea, which was surprising for him. He pushed forward and received resistance in part. But that did not matter, he knew he had the skill to overcome these fools. Lonnel was at his side, swinging his sword like a mad man, his spear being buried in some unfortunate soul. Together they led the charge up the pier and into the city proper. There were more guards waiting for them, but also ordinary citizens. Shaking and armed with nothing more than household tools. “Surrender, we do not wish to kill you.” Aerion called out. Someone said something in response and the crowd charged.

It was bloody work, the civilians might not know a lot about actual fighting, but they were good with creating havoc. They were feisty as well, using any and all means to get their desired result. They swarmed his men and he lost three or four of them that way. The rest, well, the rest were bludgeoned to death. The peasants that was, his men were too good for most of them. Though Lonnel took a wound to the side, which Aerion worried about. Eventually, the civilians broke and fled, leaving the way to palace clear for them.

Aerion led the way up the winding roads, and the bloodied streets, making his way toward the Palace of the of the Magisters, where Lys and its estates were governed from. He saw people hiding, foraging in the rubbish dumps for food, whilst the golden and silver palace got nearer and nearer. It did not appeal to him whatsoever, indeed it even made him feel a little nauseous. When he got there, there were no guards guarding the entrance, allowing him and his men to simply walk in. They followed the commotion and found the Magisters, seven of them all waiting, one looked as if he’d pissed himself.

Standing before them all, dressed in his armour and covered in blood and sweat, Aerion spoke. “Bend the knee, you are subjects to His Majesty King Aelor Targaryen, any who resist shall be executed. Those who bend shall be rewarded.”

There was a moment of silence as those gathered looked at one another, then one by one they got on bended knee and spoke. “We, the Magisters of Lys, do hereby forswear any allegiance to Volantis, and do recognise His Majesty, King Aelor Targaryen, as Ruler of Lys.”

Aerion smiled. “Good, now whoever pissed themselves can go and clear themselves up. The rest of you, prepare for the King’s arrival.” With that he gestured for some of his men to remain on guard, he then turned and left, to await the King.


	108. Haegon VI

** Chapter 108: Haegon VI **

****

They had set sail from Volantis when they’d learned of the fall of Tyrosh and the passage through the Stepstones. They’d seen the flames of Lys, as they were approaching and Haegon had called a halt. Desiring a meeting with not only the Golden Company but members of the Tigers. Some had urged a retreat and a thoughtful discussion, others had urged war. Haegon knew that the Targaryens would come for them regardless, and so he’d ordered on. Confirming his son Daemon as his heir should he die in the fight to come. Something he was glad to have done now. With the way things were going.

Aelor Targaryen had sent some of the Westerosi fleet to attack them, and they were currently engaged in an all out fight. Haegon knew that his men were prepared and that the Volanteene fleet could destroy this portion of the Westerosi fleet, but he had already seen his brother Viserys be pushed overboard and only just about survive, and he’d seen his nephew Daemon Bittersteel take a bad wound to the leg. They’d either slow them down or do worse. He had barked out orders for a change in course and slowly but surely they were gaining tide.

The enemy fleet was never there to prevent them reaching Lys, it was there to ensure they took casualties and were weaker. Haegon suspected that either the Westerosi were not going to want to hold Lys, or they were going to embark on a short shrift and would end up abandoning it. Either way he intended to do some serious damage. Aelor Targaryen, Maekar Targaryen, Aerion Targaryen and Aegon Targaryen were all on Lys, and they were the strongest of the family. A shame that that kinslayer Bloodraven was not there, he would have liked to have gotten revenge for father and for Aegon and Aemon.

He returned to reality as the ground appeared. Preparing himself, he barked out commands, they stopped at the shore, the ladder was thrown down, but he jumped down. His mace landing next to him. He picked it up, and assessed the situation before him. Men were rushing toward him, Lys had three ports, one on the south side toward Volantis, one on the north side, and on the western side. He needed to blockade all three. He barked the orders, Viserys stormed off to do as bid. He straightened his shoulders and moved forward to greet the enemy.

They came with barrels of weapons and people. Haegon could appreciate their ferocity. They were not peasants clearly, but knights and soldiers hardened by the wars of the past and the present. One man almost had him on his knees, such was the power of his blows. Yet Haegon eventually managed to overwhelm him and take the lead, such as it was. He was not quite convinced that much good could come from an overwhelming strategy such as the Targaryens were clearly trying. He knew if they got into the streets they were finished. Yet the Targaryens kept pushing and then retreating forcing him and his men to follow them.

Out the corner of his eye he saw Daemon Bittersteel take down three men bearing the sigil of House Blackwood, he snorted. Aegor would be proud of his son. If the man was still alive. He knew Calla would rage at him and their brothers for thinking this, but truth be told, Haegon didn’t care for Aegor, nor did Baelon or Viserys. They thought him little more than a scheming idiot with no tact. Aenys was indifferent, of course. But Aenys was never one for the schemes of their uncle or war. Haegon didn’t really know what Aenys wanted. Yet here they were, the fighting continued and dragged him back to reality. A brutal blow to his side had him wheezing. But he righted himself, and that was when he saw him.

Maekar Targaryen, dressed head to toe in black armour, the only thing that identified him was the dragon banner flying behind him. Four three headed dragons quartered. Haegon laughed and bellowed a challenge. Maekar came to meet him. Their maces clashed against one another, a loud clanging echoing in the battlefield. Around them time seemed to stop, but Haegon knew it was simply his mind. Maekar pushed forward, Haegon resisted, holding his ground, knowing that the other man was older and likely more tired than he was. Maekar Targaryen pushed again, and this time Haegon had to move back. He nearly lost his balance but managed to right himself in time.

Maekar came at him, Haegon ready to meet him, their maces clanged, they broke apart then Maekar struck him on the face, his helmet did most of the protecting there. He got his own back, a solid one-two which ended up denting the man’s armour. They moved forward and backward, dancing and twisting, baiting one another into doing something they would regret. Maekar got hit right in the face, Haegon the chest. Backwards and forwards. Haegon kept himself on the ball, by moving his feet, but Maekar came at him like a bludgeon. He could understand now why the man was held in such high regard. He was a weapon; in battle he just did not stop.

They continued their dance. Maekar swung one way, Haegon ducked and then hit him. It was clear to him that the man was getting tired, given he was about a decade and a half older than him, that was not a surprise. Haegon knew how to dance around the edges, and lead this beast of a man on a dance he could not hope to win. Backwards and forwards, further and further, Haegon hit the man and watched as his own returns got slower and slower. Maekar Targaryen managed to get one good hit in before his defences fell completely, and in that moment Haegon struck.

He knocked the mace out of his opponent’s hands, then slammed his mace into his helmet, then did it again, and again and again. He then danced back, and knocked him on the face when the man tried to pick up his mace. A further two hits came and went, Maekar Targaryen stumbled now. He knew he was being unchivalrous, but Haegon did not care, it was him or Maekar, and Haegon was going to survive. He hit the man one last time, and watched as he fell over and did not get up again. He picked gestured to the man’s mace, and watched as his squire picked it up. Together they ventured further into the city.


	109. Aelor V

** Chapter 109: Aelor V **

****

There was a lot of noise during the course of a war. Aelor had long ago come to accept that. Right now, as the streets were lined with men and boys fighting against one another, he heard screams, shouts for mercy, and profanities. He saw men and boys cut down before their prime, with rage and sadness boiling through them. Aelor kept going, his axe cutting a great many blow within the enemy, but he knew he was tiring. The fact that Uncle Maekar had not come back from the initial offensive, and the fact that he was fighting now so fiercely suggested that something had happened.

Aelor said his thanks that the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Roland Crakehall had insisted that someone prepare the ships. They did not want to hold Lys they simply wanted to draw Haegon Blackfyre out, to assess him before Bloodraven did what he did best. Aelor had ordered Aerion to command the reserve, and prepare the ships in case they needed to make an emergency escape. His cousin had protested, but as the man was married to Aelora he was by default Aelor’s heir and therefore Aelor did not want to risk him. He was glad to have taken that thought process given the current state of the fighting.

The enemy were coming in waves, the first one had been dealt with, Aelor had killed what he assumed to have been a member of House Bittersteel, for the lad had a winged horse on his armour, that he knew was Bittersteel’s sigil. Another enemy had come, a big hulking lad who’d swung and given him as good as he’d gotten. Aelor had eventually managed to defeat him, but there had been some instances where he’d felt as if he were going to sink. His body was taking bruises. He’d given up his axe for a Morningstar and was using that to batter anyone who came too close to him. He knew it was not a long term solution but right now, he was struggling to breathe.

A man came hurtling toward him, teeth bared. Aelor smacked him to the side. He got up and attempted to fight again. Aelor smacked him down again, and this time he did not get up. He liked the feeling of the Morningstar. It made him feel stronger than an axe or sword could. As another enemy came, Aelor hit them to the ground. This time they did not get up, and breathed easily. After that second enemy, there was a lull, allowing him to grab some respite. “Lord Commander, do you have news?” He asked as the man came to him.

Ser Roland, had been a member of the Kingsguard from the age of eighteen, first serving under Aelor’s grandsire King Daeron, then under King Aerys and now finally Aelor himself. He was old and experienced. “Donnor Stark and the northmen have held the eastern port, but they report that they won’t be able to keep things balanced for long.”

Aelor grunted. Donnor Stark did not surprise him, he did not trust the man, but he could read him well enough. “Tell him to board his ship and send his men back to Westeros.”

Ser Roland looked surprised. “Sire?”

Aelor sighed, he was tired, but he knew the northmen would be better served elsewhere. “Very well, not Westeros, but to the Stepstones. I do not want them clogging up the Eastern Port. Tell him that he can return with his men.”

Ser Roland nodded and gave the command. Shortly after that the fighting resumed. Aelor fought with as much intensity as he could muster. Pushing his body beyond its reasonable limits. Sometimes he wondered if he were going too far, then he saw another Blackfyre soldier and he kept going. He found the strength from somewhere to keep things going. He just hoped it would be enough, otherwise things might end worse than he had intended them to. More soldiers kept coming and as they did, Aelor saw his own men begin to flag. He thought about it and then called out. “Ser Roland, pull back.”

The knight did as commanded and slowly they moved backwards, through the streets, passed the palace, and toward the northern port where Aerion was waiting. The Blackfyre soldiers followed them, but as they did they set fire to the town, the streets and the people. Haegon Blackfyre was somewhere else, it was clear this was not the main body of his army. As they were retreating back to the ships, Aegon appeared. “I found Father.” His cousin looked haunted. “He’s dead.”

Aelor nearly stopped there and then. “How?” He asked. The thought of Prince Maekar being dead was not one he could process.

“Killed by Haegon Blackfyre. The men under his command were slaughtered after his death. I think Lord Dondarrion managed to rescue most of them, they’re coming back this way as well.” Aegon said.

“I’m sorry to about your father, he was a good man.” Aelor said, knowing it wasn’t a great consolation but it was all he could say right now. Aegon nodded and they continued their journey back to the ships, where suddenly their pursuers stopped, though one did break through and nick an already present wound, causing Aelor to gasp slightly.

“They must have known that this was our plan.” Ser Roland said as they boarded the flagship in the fleet, the enemy simply stood there not moving, but staring. “Haegon or someone else saw the plan.”

Aelor gasped slightly as he dropped his Morningstar. “You think there is a spy within our ranks?” The ships set off for Tyrosh, and he couldn’t help but feel bitter disappointment at how easily they’d had to flee. But at least now they knew Haegon’s strengths and weaknesses.

“Yes. But who, I do not know.” Ser Roland replied.

Aelor nodded then had to hold onto the side as his legs nearly buckled under him. “I need a maester.” He said, looking down and finding his side covered in blood.


	110. Aerion XVIII

** Chapter 110: Aerion XVIII **

****

The flames licked at the body, Aerion stood where he was, dressed in full armour, feeling nothing but tiredness, and knowing that really the grief would probably come in a few hours or days, or weeks. Maybe years. Right now though all he felt was tired. The flames covered his father’s body and now he watched and simply stood there, and then as the body disintegrated he stood firm, even though he wanted to turn around and walk away. Prince Maekar looked peaceful, perhaps his burden of killing his brother by accident, had eased away. Still, Aerion felt nothing.

Eventually, the body was gone, nothing more than ash. Aerion stood there and said nothing, felt nothing. Members of the army disappeared then, Donnor Stark turned limping away, Lord Gerold Lannister did the same, and others as well. Aerion remained there, the King stayed there even though he was badly wounded, and Aegon remained as well. Once the others had gone, the King spoke, and he sounded absolutely drained.

“I think we must decide what to do next. And we must decide now.” Aelor said.

“We cannot return to Lys, we must either consolidate the Stepstones and Tyrosh, or we must return to Westeros.” Aerion said. “There is nothing for us in Lys and they will not support us now that there has been defeat.”

“Then we must consolidate the Stepstones, and ensure that we have a solid base with which to stranglehold the trade region here.” Aelor said. “I cannot and will not allow them to try and gain a foothold over this area.”

“Agreed, though we must decide whether we put soldiers from the other regions as a garrison, or whether we use those from the crownlands.” Aerion replied. “I would not use Donnor Stark or the northmen, indeed I would send them firmly back to the north away from any and all.”

“Donnor has proved useful and as such I do not think we can realistically see him as a threat anymore.” Aegon said. “I think that he has done somewhat reasonable and as such his bannermen have also been loyal to a fault. I know father thought that Donnor was coming around, and as such he could be used on the small council.”

Aerion thought on this and replied. “I disagree, I think that Donnor is someone who cannot be trusted beyond the basic reaches of common politics, otherwise we are going to see something chaotic and I do not think that that is something we want.”

The King was more cautious. “I think that Donnor and the north will be needed. We need to ensure that their resources are properly discovered and used for the benefit of the Kingdom. We cannot do that if they are isolated and broken.”

“So, what do you suggest? Make him a council member? He will just use that to take away things that we cannot do without. I feel that we are better suited to ensuring someone is on the court system, and then we go from there.” Aerion replied.

“I suggest that we take a member of his family and bring them to court. That way we ensure that he has a reason to be loyal, and cannot stray outside the lines.” Aelor replied. “Furthermore, Aegon, you shall confirm your engagement to Betha Blackwood, and also introduce Donnor’s brother Willam to her sister.”

Aegon looked surprised. “Are you sure?” Aerion knew his brother had not thought that this would happen.

“Yes. I want you married to Betha Blackwood, and I will talk to Daeron when we return to Westeros and ensure he is married to Kiera of Tyrosh.” Aelor replied.

Aegon smiled. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” Aegon turned and left to prepare for something or the other, and Aerion remained standing there. There was a moment of silence then the King spoke.

“You know, these wounds are going to be getting worse over time.”

Aerion looked at the King, saw the blood seeping out of his bandages. “How long do you have?” Aerion knew there would be scramble to get power when the King died, over the throne and other such things.

“I do not know, the maesters give me different dates based on different procedures. But truth be told, I do not think that I will not make it back to Westeros.” Aelor replied.

“And do you find that you are in the mood to keep Bloodraven as hand?” Aerion asked, knowing that his own dislike of Bloodraven came from some other place, where he was not sure.

“I am not sure. Truth be told, I think that he has done a good enough job, but I do not wish for his obsession with the Blackfyres to damage the Kingdom.” Aelor replied. “He nearly brought us to our knees with the last rebellion. We must either keep Aegor Rivers out of sight, or we must execute him.”

“And if he becomes a martyr as a result?” Aerion asked.

“Then he becomes one.” Aelor replied. “I am tired of keeping him around somewhere doing nothing but rotting there.” There was another silence, punctuated by the King’s coughing. He then continued. “Of course, this might well be for naught. If I die before reaching Westeros, then this decision will be up to you.” With that the King turned and left, leaving Aerion to stare at his father’s funeral pyre. Lonnel appeared next to him, then appearing as silently as possible.

“What will you do?” His friend asked.

“I will do what needs to be done to protect the Kingdom.” Aerion replied. “And if that means doing away with Bloodraven, then so be it.”

Lonnel nodded. “Very well, I shall always of course be at your service.”

Aerion smiled. “Thank you, old friend. I shall remember this.” With that they turned away from the pyre and walked back to the camp site, and the next events.


	111. Aelor VI

** Chapter 111: Aelor VI **

****

The pain was excruciating. It was almost as if there were several thousand swords and knives being pressed into his chest all at once. The pain would go and then return with a vengeance, causing him to cry out in fists and spurts. It had only gotten this way after he’d arrived back in Westeros. In the Stepstones there’d not been this much pain, but he knew he’d be more of a burden remaining with the army, so he’d decided to return home. And that’s when the pain had started. For a moon now he’d been fighting it on and off. He was bedridden most of the day and could barely keep his eyes open due to the milk of the poppy. Aelor knew he was dying, he just had some things to sort out before he could go.

“What news from the Stepstones?” He asked. His voice sounding deep to his own ears.

Bloodraven stepped forward, Aelor knew it was the Hand due to his non present smell. “Prince Aerion sent word that the Volanteene fleet has returned to Volantis and that there have been no other sightings of pirates. He did as you asked and recognised the transfer of Lys to Volantis.” There was a hint of something there, was it disapproval, Aelor was not sure.

“You do not approve of such a plan, Brynden?” Aelor asked, his voice getting hoarser.

“It is not that.” Brynden Rivers replied. “It is simply that I worry that Haegon Blackfyre will not adhere to this agreement and that his ambitiousness would continue unchecked.”

Aelor chuckled then stopped when the pain in his side grew too much. “I think you want there to be another war.”

The Hand did not deny it. “If it meant getting rid of the Blackfyres, then yes.”

“And what of the lives that would be lost during this war? What of the lives that have been lost already? We cannot keep fighting, there are more important things than the Blackfyres. The Kingdom needs reform.” Aelor replied.

Something changed in Bloodraven then. “Sire, with respect, none of the reform can happen if the Blackfyres are always there breathing over our shoulders.”

“And we could simply look to negotiate a peace. Aegor Rivers is locked in a cell somewhere where no one can find him apart from you. Haegon Blackfyre didn’t even move from Volantis until Lys fell, do you truly think he will want the throne, with everything you’ve learned about him?” Aelor demanded.

There was hesitancy in his hand’s voice. “I do not know Sire. I know he does not seem interested, but this recent war could change his views. Daemon Blackfyre did not want the throne until someone whispered in his ear.”

Aelor sighed. “Then you must ensure that nobody whispers in Haegon’s ear. I do not wish for there to be more needless bloodshed and would hope to prevent more of it if I could. Though we both know I am not long for this world.” The Hand said nothing and so Aelor continued. “You have got my will with you?”

“Yes, Sire.” The Hand replied, Aelor felt himself being helped up. A quill pressed into his hand.

Aelor read through it briefly, seeing all in order, he pressed the quill to the paper and signed the document. Then asked. “Where is Rhae?”

“I’m here, Your Majesty.” Rhae replied, sitting next to him on the bed and taking his hand. Bloodraven disappeared then.

Aelor smiled weakly. “Rhae, sweetheart, I’m sorry I couldn’t give you the wedding you wanted. I know I promised, but it seems the gods aren’t willing to give me this.”

Rhae took their linked hands and pressed them to her cheek, he could feel the tears falling. “It’s not your fault, Aelor, I know that you would have things be different if you could.”

“I love you, and I want you to be happy. Do not forget about your own happiness, in the years to follow.” Aelor said, ignoring the pain in his heart as he said that. “I want you to find happiness, through whatever means, will you do that for me?”

“I will, I promise. But I will only love you.” Rhae replied.

Aelor chuckled slightly. “I know you think that now, but times change, people change. Just remember that I will and have always loved you.” He heard her cry then, and leaned forward to kiss away her tears. He leaned back then. He knew his time was coming now. “I want you to ensure everything is safe here. Make sure Aegon marries Betha, and to ensure Aerion does nothing foolish. I know I ask much, but you are the only person I trust to ensure this happens.”

“I will try my best.” Rhae replied.

Aelor smiled. “That is all I ask for.”

There was a brief pause, and then Bloodraven entered the room again and said. “Your Majesty, you have not yet confirmed an heir, you must do so to make everything official.”

Aelor sighed, he had not been looking forward to this particular issue, but decided to take the paper. He wrote down the names of the two people he wanted to succeed him, then thought about it some more, and crossed out one of the names. He folded the paper and handed it back to Bloodraven and said. “Do not open this until I am dead.” The Hand nodded, and at that moment, he was wracked by a spasm. He shook, he heard Rhae crying out for him to remain stable, but he couldn’t control himself. He was shaking and shivering, and blood poured out of his wounds, then just as soon as it started it stopped.

He had time to catch his breath before it began again, and this time it didn’t stop. It kept going, he noticed something different in the room, where before there had been a breeze now there was heat. He coughed and gasped, and then  landed on the bed, broken. “I love you, Rhae.” He whispered just as the fit hit him again. This time when it finished he whispered. “Damn you….Uncle….” he heard Rhae calling his name, but he couldn’t respond.


	112. Haegon VII

** Chapter 112: Haegon VII **

****

It was hot, by god was it hot. Winter had clearly receded somewhere else. The throne room in the great palace had five ladies fanning just him and his wife on their thrones, whilst there were far more spread across the room. Haegon had summoned court to meet to discuss the issue of war. He looked at his chief financer and listened as the man spoke.

“With the conquest of Lys, our coffers have grown by some three hundred percent and as such we are currently looking at a surplus. When one adds in the profit taking from the Elephants and the Red Priests temples, that means we have more than enough money to play with, Sire.”

Haegon nodded. “That is good news, you have done a good job Laenor.” The financer bowed his head. “Now, we must discuss the future of Lys and its ensuing governance. I do not wish for the magisters to continue ruling the city, I feel it would be better treated as a Volanteene colony and therefore require a Volanteene to rule over it.”

There was a murmur at that, and Aemon Rogare, a representative of the prestigious Rogare family stepped forward then. “Sire, I would advise against such a thing, the Lyseni are a proud people. We will not react well to having a foreigner telling us what to do in regards to the administration of our city.” There was some murmuring there as well.

Haegon’s wife Talisa spoke then. “Ser Aemon, you are a brave man and you speak with your heart I am sure. But the simple reality is that Lys lost to Westeros and then asked for my husband to take over. You have given up your rights to self determination with that action.”

There was a slight outcry at that from the Lyseni delegation but eventually they settled down. Haegon looked at his brother Viserys, a man he trusted and said. “Viserys, you shall go and serve as governor of Lys in our name.”

Viserys stepped forward, bowed and said. “I thank you, for this honour, Your Majesty.” The man moved back to stand amongst the courtiers.

There was a brief silence, then Calla stepped forward and spoke. “What about Westeros? They control the Stepstones and Tyrosh, as long as they control the Stepstones, our uncle and his family cannot regain what is rightfully theirs.”

“I have received a letter from the King of Westeros,” Haegon replied, he was still getting used to saying that. “They are willing to negotiate with us in regards to the Stepstones and the potential setting up of trade routes.”

There was an outcry then, as people learned that their King had been negotiating behind their back. Haegon had been prepared for this, and he waited for the din to settle, and listened as Calla spoke. “So, you would negotiate with an usurper and a man who broke the peace agreement with Tyrosh to do as he wished? You would betray the principles with which our father lived and died by.”

“If it means that the people of Volantis can survive and prosper, then yes, I am willing to do so.” Haegon replied. Calla stiffened.

“You would betray our father and brothers’ memories.” She replied her voice cold and cutting.

“I would keep our families and people alive.” He retorted. “I would not sacrifice them needlessly.”

“Then you are a coward, and there is nothing left for me to say.” Calla replied. She turned to leave, but stopped when he said.

“I did not give you permission to leave.”

His sister turned and snarled. “I do not recognise you as my King.” With that she spat and walked out.

Ser Robert Reyne stepped forward, his white cloak billowing behind him. “Should we stop her, Sire?” He whispered.

“No let her be.” Haegon replied. He stood and said. “That is all for now, dismissed.” With that he took his wife’s hand and walked out of the throne room, back to his solar, where two members of the Kingsguard stood outside, and the Lord Commander stood inside the room.

Once they were seated and drinks had been poured for him, his wife asked. “Why did you let Calla leave?”

His wife was a smart woman, and with her violet eyes and dark brown hair, a raven beauty, he cared for her, and she him, and they knew one another better than anyone else. “Because she would have created more of a scene had I detained her. She has run out of rope and she knows it.”

“So, this was a test to see what she would do?” Talisa asked. Her mind whirring. “You think she will now try to leave and make a fool of herself, making it even harder for her to justify petitioning to bring back Aegor Rivers, or to even start another war?”

“Exactly. Calla has become blinded to reality. She continues to think we could retake Westeros with what we have. And whilst the might of Volantis is powerful, it is not enough to take on Braavos and the Iron Throne. And truth be told, I am not sure I even want the throne.” Haegon said.

His wife looked at him for a moment then said. “You are not sure whether the risk of the fight is worth it, and whether or not you can stomach another failure and more bodies on your conscious.” She took his hand then and asked. “What future do you want, Haegon?”

Haegon looked into his wife’s eyes and replied. “I want to be able to see our children grow up into adults, I want to hold them in my arms, I want to be there to see their first steps and their first words, their first loves, their first everything. I want to be there when they marry and have children of their own. And I want to grow old with you. I do not need some pointed chair for that.”

“Then you know what to do.” His wife replied.

Haegon nodded. “I do, I shall send the letter tonight.”


	113. Brynden IX

** Chapter 113: Bloodraven IX **

****

“Blackfyre responded with a positive message to the trade agreement.”  Brynden said, as he looked outside onto the courtyard where the King seemed to be wandering around slightly lost. The man wasn’t drunk thankfully, he hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol in a decade, but that fear was always there.

“You sound surprised.” Shiera replied, she stood beside him, looking out at the same scene as him. “Did you think he would reject it? Knowing what we do about him.”

Brynden sighed, his wife was right. “I know, I just thought that perhaps some of that old angst that his father and uncle had would’ve translated to him. I suppose I made the wrong judgement call about him. Haegon Blackfyre might be a warrior, but he seems to have a keen understanding of the issues facing him and the throne.”

“So, what will you do?” Shiera asked. The question was a simple one, but heavily loaded given everything that had happened.

“I will have to present it to the council for discussion. Aerion might still be in the Stepstones, but Aegon is not. Aegon will call for an agreement to be ratified, and the King might well listen to him.” Brynden replied.

“And does this please you?” Shiera asked, taking his hand.

Brynden turned from the window and looked at his wife. “I think I am too old now for pleasure in politics to matter. If this agreement benefits the Kingdom, then yes it pleases me. And having looked through it, I think it will. It will give us time to consolidate and grow.”

“And it will mean that King Aelor did not die in vain.” Shiera pointed out.

Brynden grimaced, thinking of Princess Rhae who looked like a ghost now, barely leaving her rooms, and often venturing into the Godswood when she did. “Agreed. I think that will be good enough. The King has agreed to marry Kiera of Tyrosh, which means that we shall keep the Archon as our ally and vassal for the time being.”

“Good. You will have to figure out what to do with Aegor though, you cannot keep him chained and locked forever.” Shiera said.

“I know. I think he has run out of use. And I think the warrant for his execution is still hanging around somewhere. I just need the King to sign it.” Brynden said, feeling slightly odd as he said that. It would be strange not having his half brother around to torture, or to question. He supposed he had in some ways become as bad as his brother.

“Good, I do not like seeing you like this.” Shiera replied. Brynden turned to her and raised an eyebrow, his wife elaborated. “You look worn and tired, stressed even. And there doesn’t seem to be a chance for you to relieve any such tension. Remove Aegor from the equation, sign the agreement and I think you will be better.”

Brynden nodded. “I think you’re right. There isn’t much more I can do about the Blackfyres for now. I’ll get the King to sign the decree at the next council meeting.” He walked with his wife to the chairs and sat down, with Shiera sitting in his lap. He took a breath then asked. “Have you had anymore visions?” Half the reason he’d encouraged Aelor to go to war was to prevent his daughter from being taken, he wanted to know if they’d succeeded in that.

“Not since the last one I told you about. I think that’s a good thing. And with the red priests of Volantis dead, there’s less for us to fear.” Shiera replied.

“Good, and with Asshai themselves receding into the night, I think we have little to fear there.” Brynden said voicing his agreement. Asshai had never been the most open of states, nor even the most functioning of states, shrouded in mystery as it was.

There was a knock on the door, and when it opened, Ser Vaegon Celtigar, Brynden’s aide walked in, he bowed and then spoke. “Your Royal Highness, the reports have come in.”

“Well, do tell us what they say Vaegon.” Brynden said, his aide was a young man, the son of a friend of Brynden’s and he was smart though somewhat shy.

Ser Vaegon nodded. “They mention that Donnor Stark has done as asked and sent word to the Night’s Watch to begin hoarding food for the coming winter, that Lord Torwyn Greyjoy has sent his ships out to scour for potential allies in a war against the throne and that Lord Bracken is considering moving things along with the work on the Bracken road.”

“Good to know Stark is being sensible at last.” Shiera quipped causing Brynden to grin.

“Greyjoy’s movements are not surprising, his father was an idiot as well.” Brynden said, Dagon Greyjoy had died a gruesome death at the hands of the Lannisters, with aid from one of Brynden’s many shadows. “But of course he will not be able to find Aegor, and as such might find himself alone.”

“What about the Bracken road?” Shiera asked. “That is quite clearly a violation of the ordinances.”

“I need Bracken to keep going, to keep digging himself a hole before I move.” Brynden replied. “Had Aerys not pardoned him, I think this conflict would never have happened.” In some respects, his nephew had been right and had had foresight, in others he’d been blind.

Brynden turned to Vaegon and asked. “Have you received any word from our friends in the Vale?” Since the last war Jasper Arryn had been unusually quiet, and that did not sit well with Brynden given what he knew of the man.

“Only that Arryn has a son and a daughter now, both of whom appear healthy.” Vaegon replied.

Brynden nodded. “Very well, you may retire for the night.” Vaegon bowed and then straightened and left.

Once he was gone Shiera whispered. “Everything is working swimmingly.”

Brynden smiled. “Indeed it is, my love.”


	114. Daeron I

** Chapter 114: Daeron I **

****

 

Daeron remained seated, he felt the urge to drink, but fought it down as he had been doing for the past decade. Ever since his father had kicked him out off Summerhall all those years ago, he’d not touched a single drop. He still got the shakes, and his movements were all over the place sometimes, but he no longer got haunted by grief or shame. He took a deep breath and then said. “So, you are telling me that before he died, Aelor sent a letter to Haegon Blackfyre, asking if the man would be interested in negotiating a trade deal, to ensure better relations between our two nations?” Sometimes he wished that he’d not become King, that Aelor had named Aerion, but here he was, with a crown atop his head.

“Yes, Your Majesty. King Aelor thought that it would resolve many issues that are outstanding between the two families and felt that trade is better than war.” Bloodraven said, something in his voice suggesting he did not quite agree.

“And what are the terms that Aelor sought fit to bring before Haegon Blackfyre?” Daeron asked. He was not great with financial understanding but he would at least try to get to grips with it all.

“A basic trade agreement, and freedom for traders to pass between the two realms without impediment. As such, this would bring a further three million dragons into the realm’s coffers per year, given the trading potential within the new Kingdom.” Bloodraven replied, again with that odd note in his voice.

Daeron turned to him. “You do not approve?” It came out as a question, but was most definitely more a statement of fact.

“I do not think it wise to negotiate agreements with a family that wants to remove you from the throne.” Bloodraven said. “King Aelor was hopeful, but I am not. I know the Blackfyres, and they will never stop.”

“I disagree with you. This document suggests that Haegon Blackfyre is more than willing to give up any claim to the Iron Throne in return for peace and trade. We can make some lives better with the coin we shall make from this.” Daeron responded.

“If that is your wish.” Bloodraven replied.

“It is.” Daeron said, taking the quill, dipping it in ink and signing the document, before taking the signet stamp from the Grand Maester and affixing it to the document. “Now, let us confirm this with words with Haegon and his ambassador. Invite them here.”

“Yes Your Majesty.” Bloodraven replied.

There was some murmuring, but Daeron ignored it, deciding that there were more pressing things than the discontent of men he could easily have executed. “Now, as to the matter of marriage.” This was not something he looked forward to, if he had his way, he’d never get married and the throne would pass to Aerion and Aelora, and their children, but he knew appearances needed to be maintained. “What was it Aelor promised the Archon?”

Here, his brother Aegon replied. “He said that a member of the family would marry Kiera of Tyrosh to fulfil the pact that grandfather had made with their father.”

“Which means that he would’ve wanted either myself or you to marry her, and as you are currently betrothed to Betha Blackwood you cannot marry Kiera.” Daeron surmised, Kiera was also older by eight years to Aegon, and Daeron had known her for longer. He supposed marrying her would not be such an issue. “Very well, I shall marry her. I want the arrangements made.” The Grand Maester and the Master of Coin nodded.

“Sire, there is also the matter of the Stepstones. Prince Aerion remains there with a garrison. But with this trade agreement he will need to leave.” Bloodraven said.

“Naturally, send the orders out for him to return with as much urgency as possible.” Daeron replied. “I know Aelora is desperate to see him back.” Perhaps he could take up Summerhall and keep their father’s home well and prepared.  Daeron looked around, fought the urge to drink and then asked. “Is there anything else?” When nobody said anything, he stood and said. “Very well, dismissed.” With that he walked out of the small council chamber, accompanied by the Kingsguard-it was still very odd to have them following him around- and stopped when he came to his chambers. He opened the door and sat down.

As if on cue, Aegon appeared. “Your Majesty, Daeron,” Aegon began.

“What is it?” Daeron asked tired. Not drinking always made him tired and angry.

“We need to talk about Bloodraven.” Aegon said.

Daeron sighed. “What about him?”

“I think he’s going to try endangering the peace agreement with the Blackfyres.” Aegon said. Daeron noticed that Egg’s shadow, Ser Duncan was there behind him.

“Why would he do that? He helped Aelor organise it.” Daeron pointed out.

“He didn’t though. Aelor and Aerion were the ones who drew it up. Bloodraven opposed it. He has kept Aegor Rivers alive, torturing him for pleasure, he needs the conflict to stay relevant.” Aegon said.

Daeron rubbed his temple, the headaches were coming on strong. “He has the Greyjoys and the Arryns to worry about. If he does something to ruin this treaty, I will need evidence to show that he has done so. And then once that evidence has been provided I will execute him.”

“You would go that far?” Aegon asked sounding surprised.

“If he does what you suggest he will do? Yes. Treason cannot be pardoned for anyone, even if they are Brynden Rivers.” Daeron replied. With that he waved a hand and said. “Now, be gone, I need my rest.” His brother bowed and turned and left the room. Daeron stayed where he was, and stared into the emptiness, the craving for just one drink growing by the second. He groaned and closed his eyes, before falling onto the bed.


	115. Jasper III

** Chapter 115: Jasper III **

****

“My lord, there continue to be disturbances up and down the Vale, in response to the growing presence of the Minor Sect, who are demanding the clans and the Royces give up their old ways. I fear that it will come to violence unless we act soon.” Those were the words from his cousin and chief advisor Ser Lyonel Arryn. “I have already had word from Runestone that Lord Harbert is considering calling his banners.”

“Do we know why the Minor Sect continue to cause trouble? I would have thought their leaders would’ve realised that doing so is not going to win them any favours or favourites.” Jasper replied. The Minor Sect had been causing trouble for the past few months, what their demands were exactly, he didn’t quite know, but he suspected they weren’t pure.

“My lord, from what I have been able to gather, they are a radical sect from within the Faith that were formed after Septon Beron lost the election to be the new High Septon during the reign of King Aerys. They believe that the Faith have become corrupt and have forgotten their path. They want a restoration of how things were before the Conquest, and they wish for the power to choose candidates in a closed ballot.” Maester Denys said.

“So, they are committing treason.” Jasper replied. “Septon Beron was a mad man who fiddled little boys, why is he still getting traction?” That had been quite the scandal, the man was resting in some cell somewhere on the Fingers.

“I believe that his teachings are what have stuck with people. They want something pure and non-glamorous. At least his followers do. It is mainly the cruder peasants in Gulltown and other minor refuges who follow him. I believe they have grown tired with Lord Grafton’s extravagant lifestyle combined with the focus of the Targaryens on their family feud, I think that is the main issue.” Ser Lyonel replied.

“The presence of the godswoods in Runestone and elsewhere are likely not helping. They are very much concerned about the north.” Maester Denys said.

“The north? Why are they concerned about the Starks and the north?” Jasper demanded, this was something he could never quite understand. The Starks and the Arryns had not been at war with one another for millennia, and yet there were still some who wanted it, and disguised that desire behind saying they were worried.

“Donnor Stark has stepped up his persecution of worshippers of the Faith of the Seven, and though he is legally allowed to do this, the Minor Sect believe that this is a sign that he will continue this agenda further south. Especially with his brother Willam in the south and married to a Blackwood.” Maester Denys supplied.

“So, they are in the pocket of the Brackens, and therefore in the pocket of the Corbrays?” Jasper surmised. “Has Lord Corbray actually dealt with any of the idiots who are rallying to his sect?”

Ser Lyonel shook his head. “He has not, my lord. I believe he wants there to be some more discord, that way he can push for your brother Arnolf to take over, as regent for your son.”

Arnolf Stone, his illegitimate half-brother, born to his father and some Corbray woman. “Arnolf hasn’t got the capability to lead a regency, therefore it would be Corbray who’d be in control.” Jasper surmised. “Tell me, what exactly do these fools want?”

Maester Denys unfurled a document. “A removal of all ungodly items from the Vale of Arryn, including godswoods, monuments to the Goddess of the Sea, and books written before the approval of the Ordinance of 121 A.C.”

“So, they wish to bring civil war to the Vale.” Jasper said in response. “Make on mistake, if I actually go through with their insane demands, the Vale will burn.” He thought over this for a moment and then asked. “Who is currently leading them?”

“Septon Beron’s illegitimate son, Septon Gascon. He is a passionate man, handsome as well. Hence his appeal.” Ser Lyonel replied. “He holds base in a village outside Gulltown.

“Then I want someone to find him and invite him for a meeting. We shall discuss what he wants within reason and from there we shall sort out this disagreement. Send word to Lord Corbray as well, tell him I wish to meet with him also.” Jasper said.

“At the same time?” Maester Denys asked.

“If they should happen to arrive at the same time, then perhaps we can see just what it is they are plotting together.” Jasper said simply.

Maester Denys made a note of that, Jasper rose then, signalling the ending of the meeting. He walked out of the room and spent some time simply watching the happenings of Eyrie, he would miss this place when they moved to the Gates of the Moon at winter’s coming. Though with the way things were going that would not be for some time. Eventually, he arrived back in his rooms, where his wife and children were. He smiled as Jon babbled happily at him, and Alys gurgled. “How are you all doing?” He asked.

His wife smiled. “Well enough, how was the council meeting?”

“Well enough, we know more about this troubling sect of the Faith than we did before, so that is good enough. I think that with time we shall root out the dangerous amongst them and keep the remainder as a reminder to the throne of what we are capable of.” Jasper said.

“A dangerous game, but one that could have large rewards with Bloodraven out of favour with this new King.” His wife said.

“That is why we are playing it.” Jasper said. He sat down at his wife’s side, and watched as Jon walked up and down, babbling away, he wondered about the future, and swore he would do all he could to protect his children and wife.

 


	116. Aerion XIX

** Chapter 116: Aerion XIX **

****

“I’ll tell you this, being back here is a damn sight better than being stuck on those shit hole infested rocks in the Stepstones.” Aerion said as he stretched, he’d been back perhaps an hour, forty minutes of that taken up by getting reacquainted with his wife and children. “Honestly, I know they’re important for trade, but by Gods are they boring.”

Daeron laughed, his brother was the King now, and though they’d not met for almost a decade, he seemed well enough. He didn’t drink. Which was a surprise. “Well, it is good to have you back home, Aerion. I am sure you left someone capable in command?”

“I did. Ser Gowen Baratheon, Lord Lyonel’s brother. You know he got married to a Lannister recently, I think she’s a cousin of Lord Gerold’s. Anyways he’s got a good head on his shoulders and won’t let anyone damage what has been built.” Aerion replied. There was a brief pause then, and all three of them, Aerion, Daeron and Aegon took a moment to just sit back and think. The last time they’d been in a room together had been Ashford. “So,” Aerion began, clearing his throat. “What are you planning on doing with this trade agreement?” He’d heard about it when he’d been in the Stepstones and suspected Aelor had agreed to it before his death.

“Well, hopefully the normalising of relations between us and Volantis. I’ve looked through the correspondence between Bloodraven and Haegon and it seems reasonable. The agreement itself is reasonable. No tariffs, and free trade between our merchants and theirs. Haegon claims to not want the throne, and I believe him.” Daeron replied.

“And do you think he can be trusted?” Aerion asked. “He is a Blackfyre after all.”

“He has said time and time again that he wants only for his family to be safe and to have land independent of the throne to rule. I think he is sincere. Aegor Rivers has been imprisoned for almost two years now. I do not think there is anything more that he can do.” Daeron stated.

Aerion hummed then, he was not overly convinced, but perhaps it would work. He would have to wait and see. “And how has Bloodraven responded to all of this? I am sure he voiced his objections.”

“He has been compliant with my wish. I think he realises that endless war is good for no one.” Daeron said.

“Well he still has Bittersteel alive doesn’t he? So, he’s probably taking his frustrations out on him.” Aegon quipped.

“Why haven’t you ordered his execution yet? If you are so confident that Haegon doesn’t want the throne, have the man responsible for so much bloodshed and suffering to be killed.” Aerion said. He remembered the wars, and the tears, mothers crying over dead sons, brothers mourning one another.

“Bloodraven says that keeping Aegor alive prevents his martyrdom, and as such means the Blackfyres won’t have another reason to rebel.” Daeron said though he sounded as if he didn’t believe the words he was saying.

Aerion snorted. “Come off it, Daeron, we all know the only reason why Bloodraven keeps repeating that same old horseshit is because he likes having Aegor around to torture. If you are convinced that Haegon Blackfyre is no threat, then execute Aegor Rivers and place his head up on Traitor’s Gate. Let’s end this nonsense once and for all.”

“And what happens if I do that and then something happens?” Daeron asked.

“Then we face it. But keeping this oath alive, means something is going to happen. Execute him for treason, and be done with it.” Aerion insisted.

Daeron sighed, Aerion could tell his brother wanted to avoid a confrontation with Bloodraven, but was also warring with his desire to be King. “Very well, I shall do as you ask.” There was a pause, then his brother spoke to Aegon. “And when are you getting married?”

“I…I’ve just gotten betrothed, brother. I think marriage should wait a little while don’t you?” Aegon replied stammering as he always did when Betha was brought up.

“Nonsense. You’re young, get married and start having children. Maybe start preparing for when you are given Harrenhal.” Aerion replied.

“Why do you think I will get Harrenhal? Aelor made a vague promise about it when he was alive, but Lothston hasn’t shown any signs of treason or madness. I met her at least three times in the past two moons. Nothing has shown.” Aegon retorted.

Aerion smiled. “Just trust me on this, you will be getting Harrenhal before long alongside all its lands and incomes.”

“I’d be perfectly happy with what I currently have, an income and a place at court. I can do better here than elsewhere.” Aegon replied.

Daeron spoke then. “We need someone in the Riverlands who is family, to keep an eye on them. Tully is an idiot, Bracken and Blackwood are always fighting. Lothston is mad, we know this.”

“So, you’re going to put me up as what? Bait, a test?” Aegon replied sounding angry.

“As a reminder to these idiots that there is a Targaryen ruling them, not their own petty rivalries.” Aerion said then.

Aegon sighed. “Very well. I shall speak to Betha.”

Aerion clapped his brother on the back. “Good lad. Now, we need to sort out a few things regarding the drainage systems in the city. I think speaking with the architect from Goodfellows would be the smartest thing to do.”

“That rogue idiot?” Aegon replied. “I think we’d be better going with Gendry’s Fireworks, they actually know how to make the systems.”

“I think we should get them both to do it. Use both their skills and capabilities for the good of the nation.” Daeron said.

“I’ll speak with them.” Aerion said. He knew his brother and knew there’d be no point arguing now.

Daeron smiled clapped his hands and said. “Well it is a nice day, let’s stop wasting it inside.” With that they rose and walked out into the courtyard.


	117. Aelora VII

** Chapter 117: Aelora VII **

****

 

Aelora took a breath, then spoke. “You know, Aelor wouldn’t want you to be sat staring endlessly into the nothingness. He said as much before he died.” She knew that perhaps that wasn’t the smoothest way to bring this up, but she was tired of seeing Rhae wasting away into nothingness, no fire or spark within her.

“I know. I just don’t know what else to do.” Rhae replied, her voice small and pathetic. As it had been for the last year.

“Perhaps standing tall, and finding things to care about would help? You’ve not visited any of the charities you are a patron of, you’ve not spoken to any of the girls, or anyone else since he died. Rhae, I am sorry sweetling, but this isn’t right.” Aelora replied.

Rhae looked at her, something of the old fire about her. “And who are you to tell me what to do? Aelor died and you mourned for five moons, and did nothing. Aerion had to argue with you to get you to move. And yet here you are doing the same to me. Do you know how hypocritical you sound?!”

“I know just how hypocritical I sound, which is why you have to listen to what I am saying. I know I mourned for Aelor, more than perhaps was right. He was my twin and we did everything together, when we were younger. But I should not have forgotten my children the way I did. That is what I am trying to tell you, Rhae. You must be able to grieve but carry on with life. You cannot just sit there and do nothing.” Aelora insisted.

Rhae’s eyes were empty, there was no life in them when she replied. “I do not know whether I want to do that. Food has no taste, the world appears dark and foreboding, and it all seems so pointless. I do not think I could feel any pain now, not with him gone.”

Aelora felt for Rhae, she really did, but this was becoming melodramatic. She took a breath, then leaned forward and slapped her sister by marriage across the cheek, pulled back and then did it again. Rhae stared at her. “What did you do that for?” Rhae demanded, some of the old fire in her voice.

“To show you that you could still feel pain.” Aelora supplied.

Rhae looked at her, her hand on her cheek and she snarled. “Get out. I thought you’d be sympathetic, but clearly not. Now get out.” Aelora nodded, stood and walked out of the room. She made her way back to her and Aerion’s rooms, where her husband was waiting for her. Their son and daughter running around happily.

“How did it go?” Her husband asked, a book in his hand.

“As well as we thought it would. I do think however, that she will not at least think about what she’s been doing. I had to do the thing I did not want to do.” Aelora replied.

Aerion nodded. “I think Rhae’s always been like that, she’s always needed a push to get her to think properly. Somewhat like I was before I was exiled.”

Aelora sat down next to her husband. “Except you were mad before you were exiled, love.”

Aerion laughed. “That is true.” There was a pause, and then her husband asked. “And you? How are you coping with everything? I am sorry I was not here for you.”

Aelora waved a hand, they’d talked about that before. She understood he’d needed to be guarding the Stepstones, but since the implementation of the treaty, things had been reduced in terms of security there. “I am well enough, each day is a new one. And with all of you here, I cannot afford to wallow.”

“You know that if you need someone to listen, I am always here.” Aerion supplied. He put the book down and took her hand.

“I know.” Aelora said.

At that moment Jaehaerys came over to them and babbled. “I found a butterfly, Mama.”

“Really? What colour?” Aelora asked.

“Green.” Jaehaerys replied.

“It was red, not green!” Their daughter Dyanna replied.

“It was green!” Jaehaerys replied.

“How about you go and find the butterfly and then bring us to it.” Aerion suggested. Both their children nodded and ran off to find the thing.

Aelora looked at her husband then and asked. “And what about yourself? How are you coping?”

Aerion sighed. “Well enough, I think that Daeron has gotten to grips with being King now, he relies less on Bloodraven, something that I think angers the man. I also don’t know whether they’ve actually executed Aegor Rivers or not. Daeron says they have, but I am not sure.”

“Why did you not go with them to see the execution?” Aelora asked.

“They wanted to go alone, just the two of them and the Kingsguard. There is a head standing on traitor’s gate. But I am not sure. I do not think Bloodraven would be so compliant. Regardless, that is one chapter closed. Trade seems to be doing much better, with Volantis and others. I think the main concern now is the Vale.” Aerion supplied. “I think Jasper Arryn might be dealing with things beyond his abilities.”

Jasper Arryn was her cousin, and a man whom she had only met once or twice. Aelor knew more about him. “Why do you think that?” She asked.

“I think he’s shown that he knows how to fight, but now he needs to play the game, and his moves with Corbray and others have merely alienated those lords from his side. They are people he needs to keep the Vale onside. Coupled with his courting of that dangerous Septon and I think there will be a political crisis there soon.” Aerion said.

“Will the crown need to get involved?” Aelora asked.

“I hope not, I think that would be disastrous for all involved.” Aerion replied.

Before Aelora could respond, their children reappeared with the butterfly. “What colour is it, Papa, Mama?”

Aelora looked at the butterfly and said. “I think it’s a reddish green, Aerion?”

“I agree.” Aerion replied.


	118. Daeron II

** Chapter 118: Daeron II **

****

“Donnor Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North and Lord Paramount of the North. You are certainly an interesting character and not one that is easily pegged down.” Daeron said, as he fought the urge to reach for a drink somewhere. “Tell me, Donnor, what is it you hope to achieve by persecuting the members of the Faith within the north? They pay their taxes, they fight in the armies, and they do everything asked of them. So, why the persecution?”

Donnor Stark seemed haggard, he looked as if he was the recovering alcoholic, not Daeron, but there was an edge of steel within him. “I am simply ensuring that everything that needs to be done to ensure the protection of the north is done. I have heard about this Minority Sect within the Vale and I do not wish for them to come to the north.”

Daeron nearly laughed, but kept that urge down. “You know that by doing what you are doing, you are only encouraging the Minority Sect in their efforts to spread their brand of the Faith into the North? I’ve already had to arrest and behead three Septons for preaching that particular brand of heresy. All of them were going to be heading toward the North to resolve some imagined conflict of theirs within your domains.” Daeron took a breath, the urge to have a drink was growing stronger. “You know by confiscating books, outlawing certain hymns and prayers, and also having your thugs go around burning Septs within the northern regions, you are simply painting yourself as an aggressor. One who I might have to deal with.”

Donnor Stark laughed. “I did not think the crown took its duty as protector of the faith seriously. If they had, then perhaps you would’ve finished the Dornish off when you had the chance, instead of allowing them their debauched ways.”

Daeron stiffened then. “The Dornish are not the ones who are the focus of this conversation, Lord Stark. I will ask you this once. Either you stop what you are doing with regards to the members of the Faith within the north, or you prepare yourself for sanctions the like of which will bite and hurt you beyond belief.” The threat was said with as much force as he could manage. Daeron had always been aware that he was not the most intimidating of people. The tremors he often got, only reinforced that.

Lord Stark stood up then, and simply said. “I will do as I believe is best for the north.” With that he bowed and walked out.

A few moments later, Bloodraven walked in. “That did not go as well I had hoped.” The older man said, he sat down in the seat Stark had just been occupying. “You shouldn’t have made such an empty threat.”

“What empty threat? Daeron shot back. “I meant every word I said.”

“And the way you delivered it? With your hands shaking and your eyes distant? It made you look like some sort of pathetic weakling. Most definitely not someone who could stand and deliver on the things you’ve just said.” Bloodraven replied.

“And? Donnor Stark is the person you decided should remain as Lord of Winterfell. Not his brother, who is by far more amenable to us and to everything else. What else are we to do?” Daeron replied his anger growing.

“We wait for him to make a mistake. Donnor Stark is a man who thinks that imperiousness is a way to make up for his lack of skills in other areas. He will do something that angers his family, and when that happens we shall offer an alternative to him.” Bloodraven replied.

“So, you want to remove him, but only after he gives cause to? And if it causes a war? What then? We cannot have another war, Bloodraven.” Daeron snarled.

“We can survive, now that Aegor is dead, the Blackfyres are looking elsewhere for their gain. The north will not last a month without the food shipments it gets from the Riverlands and the Reach. Lord Tyrell is your goodbrother, and Lord Tully wishes to make sure that he does not lose influence. Donnor Stark would be finished before he even had the chance to cause trouble.” Bloodraven replied.

“And if innocent people die?” Daeron asked. “What then?”

“Then they die. But if it removes a pertinent threat to the stability of the realm, then so be it. You must get used to having to make hard choices, Daeron. You are the King now, not a child.” Bloodraven said.

Daeron knew the man was right, but he still took great pleasure in saying. “I know, and you are dismissed for the time being.”

Bloodraven bowed and left, Daeron remained  where he was, staring into the abyss, not really sure if he wanted to continue or if he simply wanted to give into the urge that had been nagging at him for days. Drink and lose himself to the pleasure and the numbness. He shook his head, and shakily got up onto his feet, he walked out of the room and walked down the hallway, the Kingsguard following him. He stopped at Kiera’s room, nodded to her and then kept walking. Where he was going, he did not know. But he knew he had to keep going.

To stop would be to give into the demons, and that was not something he wanted. He kept walking before stopping. When he looked at where he was, he did not recognise it. There was a long black wall, and one image of a dragon. Daeron stopped and traced the patters on the wall, and he could have sworn he heard a voice whispering to him. But when he turned around there was no one there, but there was a flagon of wine, with its aromas wafting toward him.

 


	119. Donnor VII

** Chapter 119: Donnor VII **

****

Donnor looked at his brother Willam and bit back a laugh. His brother had put on some weight, be it the food, or the less strenuous activity that he obviously was doing, but there was definitely some more flesh around his chin and neck than there had been before. They embraced and then sat down. Donnor took a moment and then said. “I take it you are being treated fairly? You and Melantha both?” He had not approved of his brother’s marriage to a Blackwood, believed it had brought too many ties to the south, but his brother was clearly in love and that wasn’t something he would deny him.

“Yes, King Daeron is a good host.” Willam replied, there was something about his brother’s tone that made Donnor immediately go on edge, but he fought it down and decided to hear what his brother had to say. “And what of yourself? How are you and Aregelle and the girls?”

Donnor smiled at the thought of his wife and daughters. “We are all well. Preparing for the coming winter, the harvests have been collected in and as such we are all just getting on with things. And what do you do here?” He knew the conversation was somewhat stilted, and he didn’t like that. Willam was only a year younger than him, they should be able to talk freely.

“Various things, I meet people, talk about the north, sell it to them, and I represent the King in various functions when he is not here.” Willam replied. There was something in his brother’s tone that made Donnor lean forward, Willam smiled then. “Melantha is with child!”

Donnor smiled. “Congratulations.” There was another brief pause, and then Donnor continued. “I am sure you want to ask about what is happening in the north with the Faith, so you might as well ask whatever questions you have.”

There was a brief pause and then Willam asked. “Why are you doing this now? You know father and grandfather would never have approved of this. Hells even Cregan Stark never did something like this, and he had more than enough reason to hate the Faith. What you are doing is in violation of every law within the Kingdom. You know the King has considered sanctioning you and the north.”

Donnor laughed. “You truly think that that man is worth the title he bears, let alone making any threats with that title? He is nothing more than a washed up drinker who is fighting demons which will ultimately consume him. He is nothing. Bloodraven shares my view that the Faith has had it too easy for too long in the north and that they must be pressured into giving up some of their liberties. Especially as Manderly is their patron.” Donnor finished then, Manderly was a crook, a stooge, and someone who Donnor knew he would never trust as long as he lived.

Willam looked absolutely shocked by this. “You do not think the King is serious in his threats?”

“Serious? Yes. Do I think anything will come of them? No.” Donnor replied. “Bloodraven is doing all the ruling, just as he did for King Aerys. Bloodraven knows that a war with the north would destroy the throne. We have agreements with the Free Cities for trade and supplies. We would survive even if they implemented sanctions. Bloodraven does not want that. Therefore, nothing will happen.”

“You are awfully confident of that. How do you know Bloodraven is not simply playing a game with you?” Willam asked.

Donnor grinned. “Because I know things about him that could well end up getting him led to the executioner’s block. And these are things he has fought very hard to prevent getting out. Therefore, we have an understanding. The Faith shall suffer its fate, and the King will not do anything, otherwise everything is over for him and for Bloodraven. The man might have a thousand eyes and one, but he lacks the second eye. I have it, and therefore we shall win.”

“And if one day he decides that he has had enough, and that whatever you hold over him is not worth sacrificing his loyalty to the throne?” Willam asked.

“On that day, the world will burn.” Donnor replied simply.

Willam didn’t seem able to respond without something happening to his voice, so he merely nodded. They sat in silence for a time, and then his brother asked. “How are the others? Artos and Errold? Rodrik and our sisters?”

“They are well.” Donnor replied. “Errold will soon be marrying Lady Bolton, thus securing our hold over the Dreadfort. Artos has married Lysara Karstark and therefore ensured that her brother is tied to us, and giving us a claim should anything happen to him. Rodrik seems to want to travel around before settling down. The girls are well enough. Berena is going to be marrying Lord Mormont in a few years’ time, and Alysanne is now betrothed to Jon Umber’s son.”

Willam looked surprised. “I did not think you would marry her to a son of the man who rebelled against father.”

Donnor snorted. “Aregelle convinced me of its merits. Truth be told, Umber is not long for this world. Therefore, the boy will be Lord of Last Hearth and he is easily controlled. He is desperate to show his loyalty.”

Willam nodded and then said. “Well, I had best be going on, there is some important work I must be getting to before the feast tonight.” Donnor nodded, they rose, embraced and then Donnor watched his brother leave.

Once the man was gone, Donnor coughed, and a small figure walked into the room. “What did you gather?” Donnor asked the figure.

“Bloodraven is going to be moving against the Brackens, and has instigated Lothston to rebel.” The figure replied.

“And our secret?” Donnor asked.

“Secured.” The figure said.

Donnor nodded. “Good, on your way then.” The figure bowed and left.


	120. Aegon IX

** Chapter 120: Aegon IX **

****

Aegon looked at Harrenhal, its towers hanging above him like some sort of bestial monstrosity. Not for the first time he wondered just what Harren the Black had been thinking when he had ordered the thing built. Or if he had been thinking at all. Ser Duncan was at his side, wearing a cloak with four three headed dragons on it. The sigil that had once been his father’s was now his. Aegon took a breath then walked forward, stopping before the woman with fiery hair, who was bound.

“Lady Danelle Lothston, you have been found guilty of breaking every law known to man and God. For practicing sorcery and sacrificing children to demonic gods, you are hereby charged with treason and blasphemy, how do you plead?” Aegon stated. The battle that had brought them here had ended with Lord Bracken dead, and Lady Danelle’s paramour slain.

“Not guilty.” The woman replied, her eyes wide. “I do not recognise these laws you speak of. I only know the laws of the Great Other and his power is beyond that which you mortals can comprehend. You shall not win.”

Aegon sighed. “Push her forward.” He had been given explicit orders by the King to have the woman executed. A block was placed before him, and her head was shoved onto it. A Septon came and said some words, and then the sword was swung and her head flew down to the ground. Aegon took one look at it and then said, place it on a spike. His men hurried to do just that, and once they returned, he turned and spoke to those gathered in the courtyard. “You have been subject to a mad woman for many years, for that I apologise. The crown acknowledges the pain that has been caused by this. As a consequence, it seeks to rectify that problem.” He unfurled a scroll and said. “By decree of His Majesty King Daeron, the third of that name, His Royal Highness, Aegon, Prince of House Targaryen is now proclaimed Prince of Harrenhal and all its lands and incomes.” He closed the scroll and handed it to a page. “There you have it. I will expect to see all of the household within my solar before the day is out.” With that he turned and walked inside.

The walls had been covered with tapestries displaying all sorts of obscenities, a man with black hair and grey eyes fighting with a white wolf at his side. A three eyed raven looking down as a boy with crows growing out of his face wept. And in the centre of it all had been a being, fanged, clawed, and white, the palest of whites. Its eyes blue and haunting. Aegon had ordered it all torn down and burned. He stopped before the entrance to the solar, took a breath, then walked in. There he found Ser Walter Whent, the commander of the household guard for the Lothstons. The man was red of hair, and broad of shoulder. He bowed before Aegon. “Your Royal Highness.”

Aegon took a seat and looked at the man, he gestured for him to sit down and then asked. “And what can I do for you, Ser Walter?”

“I came as you asked, Your Royal Highness. I merely wished to congratulate you, and to thank you for ridding us of that lady who had done nothing but bring pain and suffering to the people.” Ser Walter said simply.

Aegon nodded. “Lady Danelle comes from a line that has long been troubled by such thoughts. It was an issue that should have been handled much earlier. For that you have my apologies as well as that of the King’s.” There was a pause, then Aegon continued. “Tell me, Ser Walter, what do you know of the lords who now make up my bannermen?”

“My brother Oswell is a good and honest man, Your Royal Highness, he will serve you as faithfully as he can. He served Lady Danelle right until he knew he could do so no longer.” Ser Walter replied.

Aegon nodded, he didn’t comment on the fact that Lord Oswell seemed to have aided in some of the lady’s crazier schemes. “And the Wodes? What of them?” The Wodes were powerful, but they were also stupid.

“They are thick, Your Royal Highness, they know nothing beyond that which they are told. Lord Wode will do as you bid.” Ser Walter replied.

Aegon nodded. “Thank you, Ser, you may rest now.” The man nodded and left, others came and he addressed them giving them their orders, before dismissing them. When all was said, and done, he felt more exhausted than before. He stayed where he was though, knowing he had more work to do. He looked through papers, paid his soldiers and on and on, before eventually leaving as the night was dawning. He got changed out of his armour, leaving it to his squires to clean, got changed and had dinner, where he toasted the men and women of Harrenhal, he retired afterwards. Just him and Ser Duncan.

Ser Duncan was the one who eventually spoke. “You know, they will want you to name one of them as the captain of your household guard. Whent will expect it because of his role in aiding us. Wode will want it because of his size and skill. Who will you name?”

“I can’t just name you, can I?” Aegon asked tiredly.

“I don’t think so, Your Royal Highness. I am lowborn, and that would serve no one well at all.” Ser Duncan said.

“Very well.” Aegon replied. “I shall handle this issue tomorrow.” With that he rose and walked back to his rooms, nodded good night to his friend, changed and then fell onto the bed and didn’t wake up until he heard the birds chirping the next morning. He awoke tired, and sore, but determined.

 


	121. Jasper IV

** Chapter 121: Jasper IV **

****

“You are a very difficult man to find, Your Holiness.” Jasper said, keeping his voice measured, and his hands folded. “One would think you were hiding from me, though why that would be I do not know.”

Septon Beron looked at him and said. “I wished to know whether your intentions were pure before I agreed to meet with you. I know the Targaryens continue to hunt for my followers, and I do not wish to subject them to false hope. So, tell me, Lord Arryn what is it you wished to speak to me about?”

Jasper had to hand it to the man, he was most certainly direct, and he had a presence about him which suggested he was used to getting instant control of a situation. “I wished to know what your intentions are. Your followers preach, but they do not site what books they have gotten their teachings from, and you, yourself have nothing on your person. The High Septon has decreed that to be blasphemous and against the instructions laid out by Hugor of the Hill. So, I wished to know what you are about.”

Septon Beron laughed. “The High Septon is a man paid for and appointed by the throen, he is not truly a man of the Faith. If he were, he would have known that High Septon Borros declared the scriptures official after some thirty years of discussion and debate involving himself and others. I do not consider them official. The word of the Seven who are One is passed down, not through writing but through word of mouth. The way it was meant to be.”

Jasper had his turn to laugh then. “So, you seek to commit heresy and blasphemy all in one go. You are wrong you know. The High Septon has always spoken of the writings being set down by Hugor of the Hill and his family, and we know that they were written down and recorded before the Andals fled Essos. Therefore, I must ask you again. What do you want?”

The Septon looked impressed. “I wish to see an end of the corruption of the Faith. The High Septon and the Most Devout are little more than stooges for the Iron Throne they take their payments from the crown and spread the word the throne wants them to. Before that was not an issue, for the throne had always had hands who knew the Faith, with the exception of Cregan Stark. But now? Now Bloodraven, that ill begotten get, is Hand of the King and much like under King Aerys he does much of the ruling. He must be removed, and the Faith purged of corruption.”

Jasper was impressed, the man certainly knew how to speak. “And you wish to do this, by using incorrect teachings and history, things you know to be false? You wish to convince the people that their Faith needs restoring and cleaning up, through deliberately lying to them. I am not surprised.”

The Septon bristled. “I am not lying to them, Lord Arryn, I am merely opening their eyes to what has been fed to them for centuries. You must know the truth, the Arryns have always guarded the Faith. Tell me, are you happy with the recent doctrinal decrees?”

Jasper shrugged. “I have no view one way or another. They do not affect me, more than they affect my bannermen and peasants.” Jasper rang a bell, and he heard his guards approach. “Now, Your Holiness, it has been a pleasure to speak with you, however, I have my orders, and I am a loyal subject to the King, therefore, I must unfortunately keep you detained here for the time being.” With that his guards entered the room, and forced the man up. “Take him to the locked room.” Jasper commanded, the men nodded.

“You will unleash fire by doing this.” The man said before being led away.

Maester Denys appeared then and whispered. “It is as we thought, my lord, Lord Grafton has been seen discussing things with the Knight of the Willows. And Lord Corbray has mobilised his own men. They are preparing to assault the Gates of the Moon.”

Jasper nodded. “And Lord Royce and Lord Templeton?”

“Both are marching to counter Lord Corbray, my lord. The mountain clans are gathering as you said they would as well.” Maester Denys said.

“Very well. You may go.” Jasper said, dismissing the man. Once the maester was gone, he waited and then he whispered. “I know you can hear me, so tell me, what else do you want?”

He didn’t jump, unlike the first time this had happened. “Defeat Corbray, destroy the clans and then wait for my word. Do nothing else.”

“And the bodies?” Jasper asked.

“Burn them.” the voice replied.

“Very well, I expect the King will know of my work?” Jasper stated. It was a question, but also a statement.

“Yes, he will be most pleased.” The voice said before it disappeared.

Jasper rose then and murmured to himself. “Seer damned one eyed raven.” With that he went to his rooms, got changed into armour and then joined his men as they rode out to deal with the enemy that threatened peace and stability, hopefully this would all be over tonight. He didn’t want more war. Of course, knowing these zealots, that was likely what would happen, they had no sense after all.


	122. Brynden X

** Chapter 122: Brynden X **

****

Lothston was gone, dead, her family wiped out and the visions of flame and burning and ice that Brynden had been seeing for months beforehand had disappeared. He was relieved, for he knew a disaster had been avoided, and the future had changed. He would not be going to the wall, and his daughter would be safe from Benerro. Now, he had to focus on the present and handling the men before him. The King was indisposed his liver destroying itself from the inside.

“Lords Corbray, Melcolm, Grafton and Waxley, you have been brought here due to your attempt to stir up rebellion and treason. You were found plotting and scheming with a traitor and a heretic known as Septon Beron, and as such the crime is one of the most grievous that can be committed. Do you have anything to say?” Brynden said.

Corbray spoke. “We did what we had to do. The Faith has been corrupted by its years under the throne’s rule. It no longer stands for what it was supposed to. Septon Beron preaches a new way, a way to bring forth enlightenment.”

“And the fact that Septon Beron tried to replace the High Septon, making claims that have been deemed heretical and blasphemous? How did you square that with what you say you were trying to do?” Brynden asked sharply, waiting for Corbray to say the thing he knew the man was dying to say.

“The High Septon is nothing more than a stooge. He comes from a bannerman of House Blackwood, the family that spawned you. He is nothing but a puppet for you agenda, and as such must be removed.” Corbray said as the court muttered amongst itself, causing Corbray to speak out again. “You know it is true. Everyone knows these things. Do not deny it!”

“So, this was nothing more than an attempt to remove someone you considered a threat? Someone who had done nothing more than their title demands they do?” Brynden asked.

“He is a spy and a stooge, and no good follower of the Faith should abide a heretic controlling the Faith!” Corbray roared.

Lord Melcolm spoke then, and his voice was a lot calmer than Corbray’s though it still contained the same hints of anger and rage. “We did what we thought was right. Just as you did when you slew your own brother. We fought for what we believed in. And if that makes us traitors so be it. We shall take our fate on the chin and go from there.”

It was as the man said this that Brynden got a vision.

_The clouds parted, the wind howled, and there standing bright with black armour studded with rubies, was a man with pale silver hair and violet eyes. He stood against the tide, as the animals came. Beasts with human bodies and animal heads. There was a chill, and the man fought with all he had, the beasts overwhelmed him and then were pushed down. More came, a stag headed monstrosity advanced forward only to be cut down._

Brynden came too, and blinked, no one had noticed his disappearance into the vision. He cleared his throat and said. “The King has looked through your crimes and reached a decision. By order of the law, you are sentenced to execution for the crime of treason.” The lords were dragged outside, with the court following, and before them all outside on the steps leading down to the city below, they were executed. Their heads picked up to be placed on the spikes on traitor’s gate, whilst their bodies were taken and thrown to the dogs. Brynden moved away then, and walked into the keep, he visited the King, who was sitting up in bed reading a book, his wife at his side. “It is done, Your Majesty.” Brynden said.

“Good, did they say anything of note?” the King asked, wincing slightly.

“They only confirmed the real reasons for why they did what they did.” Brynden replied, he would not confirm what he had learned about Melcolm until he knew more.

“Very well. You may go.” The King said. Brynden nodded and left, he noted though that the Queen was holding the King’s hand, it seemed they had grown closer then.

Brynden walked through the corridors, before stopping to look at his wife and children, they were growing quickly, and would soon need marriages, he nodded to Shiera and walked on. He kept going until he reached the godswood, where she was waiting for him. They embraced and then pulled back. “So, what have you got for me?” He asked.

Gwenys smiled. “No hello? You never were good with small talk, brother.” Brynden grimaced, and his sister continued. “Septon Beron is hiding with the Brackens deep in the under growth. Stone Hedge is arming itself, though your suspicion was right. The Melcolms are doing more, they have ties with Braavos, and one family in particular.”

“And what family is that?” Brynden asked.

“Some family called Baelish. It seems they are making their way with selling stocks and gold.” Gwenys replied.

“Very well, thanks for this. Do you want to come inside?” Brynden asked.

His sister shook her head. “Thank you, but no. I don’t want to step inside that place ever again.” With that she turned and walked away, leaving Brynden to stand next to the weirwood tree and think. Baelish, Baelish, that name would cause trouble unless dealt with.


	123. Aegon X

** Chapter 123: Aegon X **

****

They rode passed the people toiling in the fields, some of whom waved to them, Aegon wondered about their rates and made a note to speak to Maester Cerys about it. They rode passed women with their children, playing about them, and Aegon smiled, their son Duncan was a year old now, and growing all the time. Eventually they stopped and settled for some food. It was good to get out of the castle, just the two of them, plus some of the household guard. Aegon took some of the food from the basket and handed it to Betha.

“So, how are you enjoying the break?” Aegon asked. He still couldn’t quite believe Betha was his wife. It seemed surreal.

Betha smiled. “Well enough, I think it’s good to be out of Harrenhal now and then. You should do it more often.”

Aegon grimaced, Betha had been on his case for some time about this, he spent too long pouring over letters and other such things, and not enough time enjoying life. He knew she was right, but he also knew that as Prince of Harrenhal it was his duty to ensure the safety and well being of his people. “I know, but there’s been a lot to do. I only just finished looking over the proposals for a new road from Harrenhal to Oldstones, and there are a lot of adjustments that need to be made.”

“And? That does not mean you cannot take a break from time to time. If you keep working like this, you won’t enjoy anything.” Betha said.

Aegon laughed, taking a bite out of a sandwich. “I know, Betha, I know. And I’m listening to you.” He stopped then, put the sandwich down, and took a swig of water, then said. “You know, I think Rhae might finally be moving on from Aelor.”

His wife raised her eyebrows at him, his attempt to divert the conversation clearly evident. Betha obliged him though. “Oh? And what makes you say that?”

“She’s been doing the thing she normally does, asking a lot of questions and a lot of reading. Aemon told me he saw her perusing through several books at Summerhall when he was last there.” Aegon said.

“And you think this shows she’s moved on?” Betha asked sounding sceptical.

“Yes. You have to understand, Rhae has always been a curious person, she has always demanded to know more about everything. And I think this is a sign that she’s ready to get out there and explore the world more. And with things being as peaceful as they are now, I think that’s a good thing.” Aegon said.

“And you don’t think that Daeron will try and push her into a marriage?” Beth asked.

“I don’t think so, I think he will give her the time and space to settle into things before discussing anything of the sort. Bloodraven has even been corralled into such a thing as well.” Aegon said.

“Now that is an achievement.” Betha whistled. Bloodraven was her uncle, but she did not like him, Aegon knew that and he agreed with her.

“And how is the King himself doing?” Betha asked.

They’d received word that Daeron wouldn’t be able to come for Duncan’s officiating due to his illness, and that had worried them both. Kiera hadn’t written to Betha either in some time. “I got a letter from Aerion the other day, it was short and didn’t contain much detail but I think the King is getting worse.”

“What’s wrong with him? He hasn’t had a drink in a decade.” Betha pointed out.

“I think it’s something to do with his liver, though Aerion hinted that he thinks there’s more at play here. Something to do with an argument he had with Bloodraven.” Aegon replied mulling over the words as he said them aloud.

“You don’t think Bloodraven actually had him poisoned do you?” Beth asked. “I know he is power hungry, but I don’t think he’s actually that foolish.”

“I agree.” Aegon said. He heard something off in the distance, and wondered what it was. “I think that perhaps he has grown tired. Aerion wants to be Hand of the King, and I think Daeron and he work far better together than Bloodraven does with Daeron. I know as well that Aerion is the biggest supporter of peace with the Blackfyres whilst Bloodraven wants to remove them completely.”

“Hasn’t Haegon Blackfyre signed a treaty of peace with Daeron? Wouldn’t it be foolish for him to renege on that, considering Westeros is his biggest trading partner?” Betha asked.

“I think Bloodraven wants to maintain that enemy, for he knows the longer that enemy is there, the more chance he has of keeping power, and of keeping his family safe. I think he fears there being some sort of removal should the Blackfyres no longer be a threat.” Aegon stated.

Before his wife could reply the sound grew closer, and as they both looked to see what it was, five men came barrelling toward them. “Dunk, who are they?” Betha asked.

The knight moved forward, took a looking glass, and swore. “Red sparrows, you must go, Your Royal Highnesses.” Without needing to say anything else, Aegon grabbed Betha’s hand they mounted his horse and rode off for Harrenhal. Arriving in shorter time than it took to leave. Aegon went to his solar, and asked that Duncan be brought there. They waited for some time, then Dunk appeared.

“Well?” He demanded.

“Three red sparrows of the Minor Sect, two dead, one imprisoned. In the dungeons.” Ser Duncan replied.

“I want to speak with him, is he able to talk?” Aegon replied.

“Yes.”

“Good.” Aegon kissed his wife and son then made his way down to the dungeons.


	124. Aerion XX

** Chapter 124: Aerion XX **

****

The fires burned all around him, Aerion watched them with indifference. These fools had brought it upon themselves when they had decided to abandon their oaths and support a traitor and a heretic. Their screams echoed for the whole world to hear and yet still he did not care. He remained ahorse, watching it all looking to see when they would scream for it to stop. His morning star was at his side, his men watched as well, Lonnel led the burning and destruction of Bitterbridge, the town that had decided to defy the King.

He saw a soldier bend a woman down and fuck her, and he found that did not really bother him, for the woman bore the mark of the Minor Sect, of Septon Beron, the man who had been imprisoned in the Eyrie, and yet was supposedly getting his supporters to rebel across the Reach and the Riverlands. Someone had tried to attack Aegon and been dealt with, the information had been passed on to the capital and the King had ordered him to the Reach, where Lord Tyrell and Daella were struggling to keep the flames from spreading.

Eventually he grew tired of watching this destruction and ordered for it to stop. Slowly but surely it did, and he made his way to where Lord Caswell stood, his face covered in dirt and grime. The man stared at him, pure hatred in his eyes. “You will burn in the Seven Hells for this.” The man snarled. Aerion laughed.

“You believe in a heresy, you will be the one burning, once the King is done with you.” Aerion replied.

“You have simply encouraged more people to follow the Septon of Truth, they cannot tolerate a bastard ruling the realm. And your brother is nothing more than a drunk.” Lord Caswell snarled.

Aerion got off his horse and struck the man with his hand. “Remember that you are the one who was raised from obscurity. Your family would have died out with your pox ridden brother, had it not been for the King.”

Caswell had a hand on his cheek. “Had I known that it would come with the King sacrificing the ancient oaths, then I would never have accepted it.” There was a pause as someone in the distance screamed, Caswell screwed his eyes together and sighed. “You know the flames of rebellion have spread. You will have to march all over the Reach to stop them consuming the region.”

Aerion did not reply to that, instead he asked. “Tell me who is giving you these orders and I might spare you.” He did not think that Beron was directing things from his cell, there was someone out on the ground, someone who clearly had used Beron as a distraction.

Caswell snorted. “I am not going to tell you anything. You are just as mad as you were at Ashford.” Aerion breathed deeply, ignoring the jibe.

“Does this man hold such power over you, that you would willingly risk your life and those of your people for him?” Aerion asked.

Caswell laughed, and the fire made his eyes look wild. “I find it humorous you think that a man could drive all of this.” He gestured with his hands. “Only women are known to ignite such passion.”

Aerion’s eyes widened then at the implication. “Who?” He demanded. If he got a name maybe this could all end.

Caswell laughed. “I will never tell you this.” And before Aerion could respond properly, the man had bitten his lip and his mouth had begun to foam. Aerion watched horrified as the last scion of House Caswell died before him.

“Shit!” He cursed.

Lonnel appeared then. “Your Royal Highness, we’ve found someone willing to talk.”

“Bring them here.” He commanded.

Three of the men brought over a woman who looked scared, she had red and green hair, and one golden eye and one silver eye. She bowed before him and then said. “A woman shrouded in silver, with green eyes and daggers for teeth came here. She spoke with Lord Caswell, and then before we knew it the Septons were told to preach from that heretical book.”

“How long was she here?” Aerion asked, the description seemed familiar to him, but where he did not know.

“She was here for a moon before leaving. I think she slept with Lord Caswell, because he followed her like a dog afterwards.” The woman said.

Aerion nodded, he was starting to get a much clearer image of who they were speaking about now, though he had  never met her before. “Did you get a look at her eyes?” He asked.

“She had green eyes, Your Royal Highness.” The woman replied.

“I know, but did you really see her eyes.” Aerion demanded.

The woman looked confused for a moment and then replied. “They held a menacing look about them, as if there were spirits haunting her every move. She muttered sometimes, and she seemed unhinged at times.”

Aerion nodded, he knew who the woman was now. “Thank you, you may go.” The woman bowed. Aerion turned to his men. “Put out the remaining fires and provide food for those who are left here.” The orders were given out. Aerion took a map from his squire and looked at it.

“What are you looking at, Your Royal Highness?” Lonnel asked.

“The quickest routes to the Shield Islands.” Aerion said.

“Why?”

“Because I think I know who is behind all of this, and the Lords of those islands have always been loyal to her family.” Aerion responded.

“Whose family?” Lonnel asked.

“Calla Blackfyre. The little bitch is stirring rebellion again.” Aerion said.


	125. Aegon XI

** Chapter 125: Aegon X **

****

Aegon watched as the prisoners were rounded up and put before him. They were all women, which surprised him. He had never thought that women would get swept up in the passions of extremism that seemed more like something men would do. He took a breath, and waited for all the prisoners to be placed before him, and once they were he spoke. “You have committed treason of the highest order today, by rebelling against your sovereign, and by fighting for a man who has been deemed a heretic by the High Septon. I wish to know why you decided to do this.”

Had it been a man he was speaking to he could have expected all sorts of bile, but the woman who spoke, with black hair and blacker eyes simply said. “We follow our gods, and they were the ones who told us to rebel. Your King is not our King.”

Aegon looked at the woman. “You swore the vow did you not? I remember seeing you there, the day King Daeron was crowned. You were there for your village. What is your name?”

The woman looked as if she wasn’t going to answer, but then she said. “My name is Marianne. And I am proud to say that we have resisted the tyranny of the crown.”

That was not the first time he had heard someone say that. The man who had tried to attack Betha and him at Harrenhal had said something similar when he had questioned him. “And what tyranny is this? Your taxes are low, there is food in your belly. What could precisely get you to revolt?”

“The very fact that there is a man of the old gods ruling as hand, and the very fact that his cousin serves as High Septon.” The woman, Marianne, replied.

Aegon laughed. “The High Septon has no ties to the Hand of the King and never has. I do not know where you are getting your information from, but you are wrong.”

There was a brief moment where it seemed like the woman would repent, but then her eyes hardened. “No, you are wrong. How else do you explain the measures such as the salt composit that the High Septon has demanded we pay. Such a thing goes against scripture.”

“Which scripture?” Aegon demanded. “Verse twelve, chapter ten of the Seven Pointed Star says that ‘Give unto the lord as he gives unto you, be it in salt, bread or meat.’ You are contradicting yourself.”

The woman said nothing, but another, younger woman said. “That verse doesn’t mean we have to pay for the composit. That doesn’t have a basis.”

“I’ve just shown you it does.” Aegon replied. The woman fell silent.

Ser Walter Whent came then and said. “Your Royal Highness, we’ve found a young man who says he wants to speak to you.”

“Bring him here then.” Aegon commanded.

Ser Walter sighed. “He said he will only speak to you away from this lot.”

Aegon nodded, he suspected he knew why, group shaming amongst this lot would be horrendous. He followed Ser Walter to a clearing near the road. The young man was just a boy, no older than twelve. He stood tall and proud, but also looked terrified. “What is it, lad?” Aegon asked as kindly as he could.

“I can tell you who led this.” The boy replied.

“What’s your name first.” Aegon asked, he needed to know the name of the lad to make him feel more comfortable.

“Gaemon Palehair.” Gaemon replied.

“Well Gaemon, thank you for this.” Aegon said. “So, who was it who led this?”

“She had red and green hair, and one golden eye and one silver eye. She did not give a name, but she spoke with an accent that made me think she was noble. Or a Princess, but I don’t think she was a Princess because no Princess would do this. She said that the Faith had lost its way, that Septon Beron was the only one who could lead us to the light. She also called for the King to be dethroned.” Here the boy looked terrified. “She called for the crown to be abolished and for the Kingdoms to break up.”

“And you say she didn’t give a name?” Aegon asked. He had no idea who this woman could be and why she might be doing this.

“No, no name, Your Royal Highness.” Gaemon said. He hesitated then continued. “Your Royal Highness, the women here are good people, they don’t deserve to die for the crimes of a braggart. I think they should at least be heard. Marianne is an extremist, take the rest of them away from her and you will hear reason.”

That seemed reasonable, but he didn’t have time to do it now. “Thank you, Gaemon.” He gestured for Walter to take the lad away, he then made his way back to the women. “Now, stand up. You are being taken to King’s Landing for trial.” With that he turned and mounted his horse, he watched as they were led away before setting off himself.

As they made their way to the capital, Aegon ran over what he had been told. Whoever this woman was she was clearly dangerous and would need to be found and dealt with as soon as possible. The question was, who was she, and where could she be found? He had never heard of a woman with such description before, perhaps Aemon would know, his brother had always had his head in books when they were younger. That night they stopped at Harrenhal, and as Aegon told Betha about the woman, his wife’s face changed from surprised to horrified. When he asked her why, she replied with one simple thing that terrified him also.

“That’s the Witch of High Heart, and she’s finally woken up.”


	126. Daeron III

** Chapter 126: Daeron III **

****

“It no longer pains quite as badly.” He said, they’d given him milk of the poppy in an increased measure to dull the pain coming from his liver. Daeron knew he was dead, had known from the moment he’d felt the pain. Still, it was good that it didn’t pain quite so much. At least this way the others wouldn’t worry. “So, the executions have been carried out?” He’d been too sick to oversee them, had asked Bloodraven to pass the sentences.

“Yes, Caswell’s followers, the women from the village. All of them have been executed.” Aerion said.

“And Bloodraven?” Daeron asked, his hand had come in for a lot of criticism for some reason.

“Gone to Raventree Hall with Shiera and their children. He said he would return in time.” Aerion replied.

Daeron laughed. “I know he won’t come back until I am dead.” He saw the expression on his brother’s face and laughed again. “Come now brother, you must know that I am not going to survive this. The pain is lessening, but I am gone.” He paused for breath, then looked around. “Kiera? Where are you?”

“I’m here, dear.” His wife appeared then, Vaella was with her. He took his wife’s hand.

“I know I am not the husband you wanted, that you would rather have had Valarr as your husband for longer, but I hope in the time we have been together that I have given you some comfort at least.” Daeron said. He looked at their daughter, with her brown hair and piercing violet eyes. “You have given me the greatest gift I could ever ask for.” Vaella was three now, and she looked at him curiously.

“What’s wrong dadda?” his daughter asked, and he bit down a sob. He heard Daella or was it Rhae who sobbed instead?

“Nothing sweetling.” Daeron replied, biting back the pain. “I just wanted to say I loved you very much, and that I am very proud of you.”

“You love Mama, also?” Vaella asked, but in a way that demanded a positive answer.

Daeron looked at Kiera, they didn’t love one another, but he liked to think they were fond of one another. “Yes.” He said, because his daughter deserved to know her parents loved one another, before one of them left. “And I want you to promise me something, sweetling, can you do that for me?”

“Yes, Papa.” Vaella replied, straightening.

Daeron forced himself to sit up. “I want you to protect your Mother, look after her, just as she will look after you. Do you understand sweetling?”

“Yes Dadda.” Vaella replied, though he was sure she didn’t understand why. He kissed her brow then, and leaned back down. Kiera took Vaella and walked back.

“Egg.” Daeron called out, his youngest brother came close. “I want you to keep Harrenhal safe, and look after Duncan and Daeron, do you understand? Keep them close. And make sure Betha is looked after.” His brother smiled and they both knew that Betha would be looking after Egg.

“Yes, Daeron.” Egg replied.

“And I would apologise for leaving you that day at Ashford, but thinking back on it now, I think that is perhaps the best thing that could have happened to us all.” Daeron said.

Egg snorted as did Aerion. “Quite.” Egg replied.

“Daella,” Daeron said. His sister came then. “I am happy that you have found happiness with Edgar, and I know your children will make you proud. Luthor is a smart boy.” Daella smiled, she kissed his brow then. “Rhae.” His youngest sibling came forward. “I hope you are feeling better now, I will tell Aelor that you say hello, when I see him. Look after yourself.” His sister smiled but cried also.

He turned to Aemon then. “Ah, Aemon, the smartest of us all, you will make a fine Grand Maester when the time comes, I am sure. You will be needed here before the time is out.”

“Yes Your Majesty.” Aemon replied ever formal.

Daeron laughed, then looked at Aerion, the brother he had always been closest to, even when Aerion was mad. “Brother.” He said.

“Brother.” Aerion replied looking at him.

“If only Father and Mother could see us now, neither drinking nor mad. I think they’d be quite proud. We’ve come a long way since those troublesome days, wouldn’t you say? You with a stable marriage and three lovely children. And me with a wife and daughter, and no drink in my system for a decade and a half. A shame that we could not have gotten that sorted before.” Daeron said, that was the one thing he regretted.

“I am sure they are proud. I know I am.” Aerion stated simply. His brother was not crying but his voice was slow, and Daeron knew he was fighting back tears.

“You will be King when I have breathed my last. Vaella is too young for the throne and you have two sons. Bloodraven will try to keep his place as Hand. I think we both know that he is better served as Master of Whispers. The Wood’s Witch is still out there and she will continue causing problems until she is dealt with. You must deal with her and ensure she is destroyed.” Daeron said. The pain was returning quite badly now.

“I know.” Aerion replied. “I will name Egg as hand.”

“A good choice.” Daeron replied. He closed his eyes then, felt himself slump down the pillow cushioning his fall. “I love you all very much, but my time has come.” He heard someone crying and said. “Do not cry for me, I am going to meet Mama and Papa now.” With that he slowed down and allowed the great sleep to catch him.


	127. Aerion XXI

** Chapter 127: Aerion XXI **

****

Daeron had been burned two days ago, his ashes placed to rest in Dragonstone. Kiera and Vaella had taken residence in Summerhall, where Aemon had gone to serve as Maester. Aerion had not yet been crowned, but Bloodraven had returned, and he had called a meeting of himself, his brother Aegon and Bloodraven to discuss the council appointments and of course current business in the realm. Bloodraven looked much improved following his break. Aerion wondered whether he would take well to not being Hand anymore.

Aerion cleared his throat and said. “Our brother is dead, Daeron was a good King in his short reign, but there are a great many things that need sorted out. For that we need councillors who are good and smart. I name you, Aegon as my Hand, Uncle Brynden you shall serve as Master of Whispers once more. Lord Redwyne shall remain as Master of Ships, Lord Belmore shall serve as Master of Coin, and Lord Gerold shall serve as Master of Laws. I want to see them here before the coronation.” There was a pause, then he continued. “Now, where are we on sorting out the matter of this wood’s witch and are we sure that she is not Calla Blackfyre?”

“Calla Blackfyre has not left Mantarys since her expulsion from Volantis, my spies there have confirmed as much.” Bloodraven replied. “There is a child of the forest who resides in Oldstones who might be someone who could tell us more, but she rarely speaks to anyone without a sacrifice.”

“What sort of sacrifice?” Aegon asked.

“A blood sacrifice.” Bloodraven replied.

“So, we have no leads then?” Aerion replied.

 “I did not say that Your Majesty. There is another lady who could fit this description, her name is the Black Widow and she has been seen throughout the Riverlands throughout the years. Indeed, before now she was last seen when Aegor Rivers was plotting something.” Bloodraven said.

“So, is she tied to the Blackfyres, and if so, is it perhaps time we met with Haegon Blackfyre and put this war behind us all?” Aerion asked.

“I do not think she is related to the Blackfyres, Your Majesty.” Bloodraven said, and then he added something that took Aerion by surprise. “But I do think arranging a meeting with Haegon Blackfyre would be good. To finally end the tension and potential threat of more war.”

“I agree, Your Majesty, we must end the possible calling card that the Blackfyres serve for those who hold the throne in discontent.” Aegon said, speaking for the first time.

“Very well, then I would request that letters be sent out inviting him here. Or perhaps to meet in a neutral location.” Aerion said.

“Perhaps a neutral location such as Braavos, then meeting here, would be the best thing to do?” Aegon suggested.

“Not Braavos, their ties to us are too clear. Lys would make more sense.” Bloodraven said.

“Lys it is then.” Aerion replied. He did not quite trust Bloodraven on a personal level, but he saw no reason to not trust his judgement on a political level. “Now, as regards the issue of the coronation, I believe that we should have a service in the Great Sept first, before moving to the throne room. We must show unity with the Faith, given the troubles of the past.”

“Agreed, and I would also suggest making a visit to the Starry Sept, because even though the High Septon has not been in residence there for many years, the place still holds significance for a great many people. It would also ensure that the Hightowers remember to whom they owe their continued prominence.” Bloodraven suggested.

“You are not truly suggesting that the Hightowers are going to be responsible for discord are you?” Aegon asked. “They’ve been one of the few houses to keep their trap shut and their business private since the Dance.”

“One can never be too careful. They had a son in both camps during the first Blackfyre rebellion.” Bloodraven simply said.

“And what of Donnor Stark? Do you have him under control?” Aerion asked. He did not trust Stark, and preferred his brother by far.

“I believe Stark understands that until such time as he has a son, he cannot do anything more than reform the road system. He has three daughters as of right now, and I believe that will keep him in line. Though once a son is born he will continue to demand a rebuilding of Moat Cailin for trade purposes.” Bloodraven said.

“He rebuilds the Moat, there is nothing stopping him from declaring independence.” Aegon pointed out. “There is nowhere to land ships on the western coast, only White Harbour and I am sure the man is preparing for that.”

“Then perhaps we would be best advised removing him and placing his brother on the throne. Willam Stark actually understands what is needed for peace in the realm. Something I think Donnor Stark has forgotten.” Aerion said.

“I think you would need to remove his daughter as well, which could put forward a claim from the Umbers, given the seniority of their claim compared to Aregelle Stark’s.” Bloodraven said.

“I was of the belief that the north did not allow female succession?” Aerion replied.

“They don’t but succession through the female line is allowed, therefore I would advise either removing Donnor Stark and marrying Willam Stark’s son to one of his daughters, or removing the entire family. Or simply waiting till a son is born.” Bloodraven stated.

Aerion considered this for a moment and then said. “We shall wait and see, but I want a plan put in place. Donnor Stark has already shown himself to be unstable many times. It will take just one more thing before he does something completely ridiculous.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Bloodraven replied, with that said and done, Aerion called an end to the meeting and walked off toward the practice yard.


	128. Donnor VIII

** Chapter 128: Donnor VIII **

****

“I know Aerion Targaryen wants me gone, I can tell it from the way he writes his letters and the way he pens my name.” Donnor said to his advisors. “However, I also know that he knows that Willam would never be accepted in the north as Lord of Winterfell, not with his long residency in King’s Landing and Harrenhal and his Blackwood wife. Therefore, I know that Aerion Targaryen will do what his brother and cousin did before him, he will tolerate me. And Bloodraven will continue ensuring that the message of the Old Gods is spread.” He finished speaking, taking a sip of wine, and looking around the solar. Maester Gormund looked reassured, Artos looked indifferent, Aregelle reassured, and Beron Cassel indifferent. Donnor continued. “Now that that is out of the way, let us discuss the other happenings within the north. Starting with Last Hearth.”

Maester Gormund spoke. “Lord Umber continues to write about wildling raiding parties, he has had to kill three groups of them so far, and he insists that the Night’s Watch is not living up to its duty. He states that either you speak with the Lord Commander or he will.”

Donnor grinned, Lord Umber was a brisk man, a giant, but also someone who was scared of him. And rightly so, the north should be scared of him, he knew more about what they got up to than Bloodraven did, and he had only two eyes, not a thousand and one. “Very well, write to the Lord Commander and tell him to come to Winterfell before the year is out, and tell him to bring his steward with him. If he fails to provide a proper answer, then the steward will serve as the new Lord Commander.” It still surprised him somewhat that as Lord of Winterfell he could so clearly control the Night’s Watch an institution that was supposed to remain neutral. Then again he supposed by providing them with their food and many recruits it made sense.

Maester Gormund made a note of that and then continued. “There have also been reports from Bear Island and the Mountain Clans, it seems the Wildlings are not just limiting themselves to the northern fringes. They are raiding elsewhere as well. Some thirty casualties were estimated in the last clash.”

Donnor sighed. “So, it seems that this old dance is about to start again. I wonder when they will learn, they cannot win against us.” Donnor looked to his brother. “I want the men prepared, and I want scouts sent out. Spread the rumour of a challenge, let us see if whoever is leading these fools wants to come and fight like a man.” Artos nodded, Aregelle spoke then.

“And what about the problems closer to home? Lord Manderly still bears something of a grudge due to the persecution of the Faith within his city. You know he won’t so easily come around.” Manderly was her cousin, and as such seemed to have been spared the brunt of the rage of his people because of it.

Donnor looked at her and said. “Manderly will answer the call or I shall remove every single thing he holds dear and install Rodrik as Lord of White Harbour.” With that he turned back to Artos and said. “Also ensure that we have regular patrols on the northern edges, I have a feeling that these fools whoever they might be will try coming this far south.”

“You do not think it is just a raid?” Artos asked.

“No, I think it is much more than that. I think this is the beginning of an invasion. Whatever is happening in the south is related to this, and I believe, more than anything else that we must defeat it with everything we have, otherwise, there will be no stopping them.” Donnor said.

There was a pause, then Donnor waved his hands and Maester Gormund left as did Cassel, but Artos and Aregelle remained. Aregelle spoke. “You command a host into battle you risk leaving Winterfell at a point where it might not return. We have three daughters, and no son.”

Donnor sighed. “I am aware and yet it is my duty to go and fight. I will not die fighting the Wildlings, I have already seen what is to occur, and therefore, I know that they will not survive.”

“If you have already seen the battle, how do you not know who leads them?” Artos asked.

“I do not see everything, only a few things, and the leader of this Wildling invasion is not one of them. However, I do think that we can gather information about why they are coming. The Wood’s Witch in the south is behind all of this, and the wildlings will know more about her.” Donnor stated.

“What makes you so sure? The Wildlings are nothing more than savages.” Aregelle replied.

“They are savages who follow the version of the Old Gods that existed before we did. They are our relations very distantly, and they know more than we do. I think we must find their leader, question them and then handle the threat as it comes. Make no mistake, there is a threat, and it will not end well without us ensuring that we have every bit of information available to us.” Donnor said. He saw that his wife and brother weren’t sure what to make of that but they took him at his word, and for that he was thankful.

 


	129. Haegon VIII

** Chapter 129: Haegon VIII **

****

“Lys continues to bear the brunt of the poor trade relations with Braavos, Sire, and as such the Magisters have asked that you intercede on their behalf. They apologise for their recklessness in their earlier dealings and wish to come under your protection once more.” Aenys, his Lord Treasurer and chief spy said.

“And what do they say they will offer if we intercede?” Haegon asked. “Our own relations with Braavos are good enough, Lys has been little but a burden since our change with Westeros.”

Aenys did not reply immediately, but there was a reply, as Haegon knew there always would be. “Sire, they promise to stick closely to policy set here, and they promise to never broach another trade agreement with Braavos. The Magisters insist that they will never look elsewhere for a lead and safety.”

Haegon nodded, then looked at his brother Baelon. “And what do you think, Baelon, will they keep this promise?”

Baelon was and always had been a good reader of people, and here it was no different. “I do not think so, Sire. I think the Magisters are saying the things they think you wish to hear, in order to avoid a difficult choice later on down the line. They are facing Braavosi aggression and they are panicking. I would not be surprised if down the line they change their course and their words.”

Aenys replied to that. “I disagree, I think they are sincere, I think they are tired of bearing the brunt of Braavosi displeasure and wish to make permanent the move.”

Haegon looked at Aenys, then at Baelon. “Baelon, you will command the third and fourth regiments, sail for Lys. From there you shall ensure that Lys is brought completely under control for the throne.”

“Sire!” Aenys protested.

“Nothing doing.” Haegon replied. “Lys has failed to remain neutral, and as such they must be brought into line. Baelon, do as bid.” His brother nodded, whilst his other brother remained silent.

There was a moment of silence and then Daemon Bittersteel, his nephew spoke. “Sire, there has been word from Westeros. It seems their new King wishes to meet with you, to discuss possible treaties and trade agreements.”

“It could be a trap. Aerion Targaryen is more dangerous than Bloodraven, and as such he could be planning removing you for good.” Aenys said.

“I do not think so, I think Aerion Targaryen is sincere in his desire to speak with you, Sire. I think he has grown tired of this constant state of uncertainty that our two realms have been in. And with Uncle Aegor dead, and Calla now residing in the Golden Fields perhaps this would be the best time to ensure we get a peace agreement.” Baelon suggested.

“You think the mood would change?” Haegon asked his brother.

“I think that Westeros is going through enough as it is, and you have not stated any desire to claim the throne, I think this is the most realistic time to meet and discuss things. Otherwise there will be nothing more than empty platitudes.” Baelon responded.

Haegon weighed up the suggestion then nodded. “Very well, send the word over to Westeros. Inform them that we would be more than happy to meet. They need only state where and when.” Daemon Bittersteel nodded and made note of that.

“There is another matter, Sire.” Vaegon Qohor said, the man was from Volantis and spoke fluent Valyrian and Westerosi. He was Haegon’s eyes on the ground within the city itself. “The Red Priests of Asshai are going to try and send more people to Volantis and the Kingdom’s wider regions.”

“Why?” Daemon Bittersteel asked. “Surely they know this is fruitless.”

“They are ambitious and they want to expand their reach for something or the other. I had heard from a source that the subsections that reside deep within the bowls of the old city are trying to spread words about them. Of course our own agents continue to delay them and in some cases even best them at their own game.” Baelon replied. “I do not think it is a permanent solution though, brother, eventually you are going to have to eradicate them completely.”

“I know.” Haegon responded. He had always known that the Red Priests were more danger than they were worth. “I want preparations for their pyres completed before I leave to meet with Aerion Targaryen. Perhaps by removing them all, we can finally get complete peace.” There was some murmuring of agreement there. “Now, unless there is anything else?” His brothers and nephew shook their head, Haegon rose and walked out of the room. His guard followed him, he arrived back at his rooms, where Talisa was with their children.

She kissed him when he leaned down. “How was the council meeting?”

Haegon sat down next to her. “Well enough. We shall be meeting with Aerion Targaryen soon enough, should the gods see fit to grant us that. Perhaps then we can end this petty feuding that our families have been engaged in.” He hoped that would be the case at least.

“How did Daemon react to that?” His wife asked.

“Well enough, he is not his mother, he knows what is and isn’t reasonable.” Haegon replied.

“That and he worships the very ground you walk on.” Talisa joked.

“Haha. Very funny.” Haegon replied.

“It’s true, the boy worships you.” Talisa replied.

Haegon didn’t say anything, but it did stir some discomfort. He knew where that ended.


	130. Aegon XII

** Chapter 130: Aegon XII **

****

 

“We cannot remain on our hands when Volantis and Braavos continue to dominate the trading markets. Our navy is one of the best within the known world and yet we sit behind Braavos and Volantis in terms of the amount of trade we are actually procuring. This is not acceptable, and must be addressed.” Lord Belmore said, the man was master of coin and Aegon did not agree him or like him.

“And how do you propose we do that?” the King asked.

“By loosening the restrictions on labour conscription and ensuring that we implement the newest tools on our ships and buildings producing goods.” Lord Belmore said.

“Those restrictions are the only thing that have prevented some of the workers in King’s Landing and Gulltown from revolting.” Aegon said. “You know that I’ve met with several group leaders and managed to talk them down from revolts because of this.”

Lord Belmore looked at him seemingly unimpressed. “And, I think that was a mistake. Because you have spoken with them, they are now unwilling to do anything that is considered a violation of those restrictions, and so we are falling behind.”

“Are you sure we are looking at the same figures?” Aegon shot back. “I looked through the figures for those in work earlier today, and it seems we are doing better than Braavos in terms of those in work, and the goods we produce.”

Belmore said nothing, and so Bloodraven was the one who spoke. “I think that what Lord Belmore is trying to say, and perhaps his lying is the wrong approach, is that we must think about what we want. We can dominate Braavos if we set our mind to it, but we must think about the direction that we are going in.”

Aegon fought back the urge to snarl something at his uncle, and instead, he simply said. “I do not think that we would wish to go down the route of Braavos. They are known for forcing most of their workers into conditions that are the same as slavery. We are a nation that has recently promised to change our working practices. And I know for a fact that there are ways in which we can both increase our output and ensure that the conditions of our workers are balanced and fair.”

“And how would you recommend that we do this?” The King asked.

“There are three laws which were passed during the reign of King Aegon the Fourth which limited the freedoms that workers could have during the off season, and I believe these laws could be removed. They are the Persons Law, the Direct Law and the Censures law. Remove them, you remove the limits on the people, and encourage them to feel positively regarding their work and their employer.” Aegon replied.

Lord Belmore spoke then. “The Persons Law was passed to prevent the forming of workers into groups that they could intimidate their employers and demand things which they are undeserving of. Who are you to say that they will not do the same? The Direct Law has ensured that the production of new types of instruments for the production of cotton and cloth has continued without pause, unlike Volantis which has faced disruptions.”

“The Persons Law does nothing but charge workers for crimes they have not committed, and work has shown that they will never commit those crimes. Since the Elephant Law was passed it ensured that they were never looking that way. I believe however, that it discourages workers from truly enjoying their work and ensuring that their productivity is lower. Remove it and you remove an obstacle.” Aegon stated. He took a moment and then continued. “As to the Direct Law, those instruments were made before the law came into place, and the disruption Volantis has suffered is due to their own unrest with the Red Priests, nothing else.”

Lord Belmore snorted, but before he could speak, the King spoke. “So, say we repeal those laws, what do we replace them with? And how do we ensure the workers do not start getting ideas above their station?”

Aegon smiled then. “There are two or three laws which could be implemented to ensure that this works successfully. These include the Direct Persons Law, which would ensure that they get at least four days of a moon off each off season, and then the Financial Benefit Law which would encourage them to set up an account for a rainy day, to ensure that their funds do not all completely dry up. Then finally there are of course reforms to the Poor Houses, to encourage Septons and sheriffs to set up centres for work.” Aegon stopped then allowing what he’d said to be digested, he had spent a good month preparing this proposal, based on eight years travelling around with Ser Duncan and seeing both the good and the bad, of Westeros.

There was some silence and then the King replied. “They are sensible proposals, but one thing that must be taken into consideration is the lords themselves. They are going to be the ones implementing these policies, and from the sounds of it, they will be reducing their power. And the Lords will not like that. How do you plan on convincing them that this is the right thing to do?”

Here Aegon paused, this was the most difficult thing to consider, eventually he replied. “I believe that implementing the policy slowly and with some thought, would be the best way to approach this. Doing it immediately will do nothing but draw ire. And having spoken to Lords Blackwood and Tully, I know that they are in favour of this. I know Lord Lyonel is also in favour. And why would they not be? After all, this would reduce the overall burden on their expenditure.” Lord Lyonel had in particular been quite relieved about all of this.

There was a moment of silence then the King said. “Very well, I want a policy proposal written up and analysed, before made into law.” Aegon nodded pleased.


	131. Donnor IX

 

** Chapter 131: Donnor IX **

****

Donnor heard the sound of his men’s boots hitting the ground and smiled to himself. He loved fighting, and he loved the thought of the slaughter that was to come. Blood would water the ground, and thousands would perish to enable the great mother to drink. The thought itself was enough to make him smile. He straightened out though when they saw the enemy. The Wildlings some eighty thousand strong had broken through the wall’s defences, and slaughtered the brothers of the Night’s Watch, meaning Donnor and his twenty thousand men would need to stand against them.

He was not worried, he already knew who would win. The northmen with knights and spearmen, against a rabble it was no contest. He called a halt. As they stood where they were, Donnor watched. The wildlings continued marching, they weren’t organised, but there were rough lines formed around certain points, commanders if he was being kind. Perhaps they would be of the opinion to charge. He hoped they would. He wanted them to start the charge. Sure enough, someone sounded a horn and the wildlings all charged. He raised a mailed fist and the archers came forth. Archers from Deepwood Motte and the Wolfswood and from Bear Island. He lowered the fist and the arrows soared into the sky.

The arrows hit their mark, and the chaos brought down men, women and children. The Wildlings truly were such savages as to send their womenfolk and their children into battle. They would never win against an enemy as superior to them as the northmen. Once he was content with the damage done to the Wildlings initial assault he called a halt to the archers. He took a breath then spurred his horse forward. Others followed, he drew his weapon and began the massacre he had envisioned in his dreams. It was every bit as brutal as he had pictured. The women were cut down first, he removed heads and bodies, the children were next, trampled under foot and heads removed.

The men fought hard, that much he would credit them with, but they were not good. They knew not how to fight against mounted men. They swung wildly and left themselves open. Those who the mounted men did not kill, the foot soldiers did. Donnor took out five men in one go, his horse killed another five. It was simply put, a brutal ending for most of them. He grinned throughout, knowing that the ground would be pleased with him for this. On and on it went, the fighting continued and blurred eventually after a time. Donnor was not sure if that mattered to him. Raymun Redbeard their leader was nowhere to be seen for now.

The fighting continued on for a time, but Donnor knew that there was only one way to end this. He ordered his men pulled back, and though Umber grumbled, the man complied as well. He then barked out commands, and Artos and his troop came forward. They had the ballistae, the bowls were placed onto them, the matches lit and then they were thrown. As sparks ignited and flames engulfed the wildlings, Donnor marvelled at the wildfire, that could do so much damage. He had added a little of the old soil to keep it contained simply to the wildling army. He heard the screams of the dying, and it did not affect him. Others vomited, some cried, but none turned away.

Eventually the wildlings came crawling out of the flames when they had died down and begged for peace. Donnor granted it to them, finding Raymun Redbeard amongst those who had come, his crown broken, and his hair covered in ash. Donnor had him dragged to a tent that had been made and stood before him. Redbeard spoke first. “You will be damned for this. The gods do not favour those who use such hellspawn.”

Donnor laughed. “Forgive me, but we both know that I have merely finished what your ancestors started a long time ago. That fire is payment for the souls you took at the wall and many more besides.” Redbeard went to protest, and Donnor stalled him by holding up a hand. “I am not interested in debating that. I want to know one thing, and one thing only.”

Redbeard stared at him. “So, ask it then.”

“Who is the wood’s witch and what does she want?” Donnor demanded.

Redbeard’s eyes widened and he shivered. Was he afraid? “She is a terrible being and someone who should never have been woken. If she has been woken, then perhaps it is good that you did what you did. The fewer wildlings there are, the less chance she has of ruining us.”

“Why would she do that?” Donnor demanded, he was growing tired, and perhaps he had taken more than one wound.

“She is the servant of darkness, and if she has awoken it means that they too shall soon wake. And that is not good.” Redbeard replied.

Donnor looked at the man and asked. “You mean to say they are real? They are not just stories?”

Redbeard stared at him. “They are very much real, and they will be coming. You might as well kill the rest of my people and burn them. They won’t stand a chance.”

Donnor nodded, took his knife and slit Redbeard’s throat, walked out of the tent, and gave the order. “Round them up, and burn them.” His soldiers did as was bid, and he watched from the hill in the distance as the wildlings burned, their screams echoing across the plains. Umber was dead, Artos was a hero, and many others had seen his strength. Perhaps he had avoided the disasters after all.


	132. Aelora VIII

** Chapter 132: Aelora VIII **

****

“What will you do about Donnor Stark?” Aelora asked, Aerion’s head was in her lap, and she hated to ask the question, but ever since they had learned about what he’d done to the wildlings she’d not been able to get the image out of her head.

Her husband sat up. The crown rested on a table to the side. “I do not know what I can do. He was acting to stop a threat to the north, the north is a realm of the crown, and the wildlings are an enemy of the crown. He did his duty.”

It was a simple answer, and one she knew her husband did not like as much as she didn’t. “You know that that’s not true. He could’ve defeated them in battle, and forced them back across the wall. But to do as he did? That is going too far.”

Aerion sighed. “I know, and yet, if I remove him for doing that, the northern lords will revolt. They see him as their hero.” There was a pause. “I should’ve sent Willam northwards, the moment I knew something would happen.”

“You would’ve sent him to his death, my love.” Aelora replied, Willam had been wracked with fever for some time now, she was beginning to think that he’d been poisoned, but of course Willam could’ve calmed such an urge in Donnor Stark.

Aerion sighed again, this time his shoulders sagged. “I think the only positive is that Donnor was able to discover more about the Wood’s Witch.” Her husband took the letter from his pocket and read it aloud. “She is gathering forces for something, revenge for an insult dealt by an ancestor of both our houses, and she is going to make it ruinous.”

“So, she’s committing treason?” Aelora surmised.

“Is it treason?” Her husband asked. “She never did swear fealty to the throne.”

“I think the fact that she’s recognised every King since the Conqueror, through one way or another, is a sign that she has in her own way sworn fealty.” Aelora replied.

“You know the mere thought that a being as old as she is, is out there, it really confuses me.” Aerion stated. “I’m not sure what to make of it. I had thought the Blackfyres would be the greatest threat that we would ever face, but this? This has made me reconsider that many times over.”

Aelora held her husband’s hand. “Whatever the threat, we will be there to face it, together.”

Aerion looked at her and smiled. “Of course.” There was a brief pause then her husband asked. “So, what has Rhae been telling you? I saw you two gossiping like old hand maidens, whilst Dyanna stared at you.”

Aelora giggled, their daughter was developing into quite the madame, and her expressions were a mix of hers and Aerion’s. “We were talking about Lord Tarth, you know he’s courting Rhae.”

Aerion said nothing for a moment, but Aelora could tell that there were various things flitting across his face, when he did speak his voice was quiet. “Does she think he’s serious?”

Lord Tarth had a bit of a reputation as being a flirt, he was only twenty-three but he already had three bastards, the oldest one being nine. He was rich, his mother being some Lyseni heiress, but there was baggage. “I think so. She certainly seems to care for him, and he her.” Aelora replied.

“How do you know?” Aerion asked. The implication clear, how had she seen them together, when he, the King hadn’t.

“I’ve seen them together, and I’ve seen them apart during court events. They both keep looking at one another, and furthermore, Tarth hasn’t slept with anyone else since he began courting Rhae.” Aelora stated.

Aerion laughed. “Is that supposed to make me think more highly of him?”

“It does show he’s serious. Not everyone is like you, my love. Lord Baratheon has had three mistresses in a decade worth of marriage.” Aelora pointed out, and Aerion conceded.

“True. So, what should I do? Tarth is important for its sapphires, but also for where it stands. And if he marries Rhae, then perhaps he will support the reforms.” Aerion mused.

“I think that perhaps it would be best to wait and see. To let this happen naturally.” Aelora said. “This is the first person Rhae has opened to since Aelor died.”

Aerion nodded. “This much is true.”

Aelora picked up on something he had said earlier and asked him. “What do you think of the reforms though? Do you truly support them, or are you doing this to appease Egg?” Aelora knew her husband still felt guilty for his behaviour during the madness of his youth.

“I think the reforms have the potential to transform Westeros, we can compete and still be a fair nation, I see no reason for why that can’t be the case. But I am wary, Egg will want to reform almost everything if he’s given the chance and that won’t end well. I’ve already had to make concessions with Baratheon and with Tyrell, despite Daella being Lady Tyrell. Egg’s been very fortunate that he has so many children.” Aerion said, their own children were growing, they had five children now, Jaehaerys, Dyanna, Maekar, Aelor and Alyssa, finding seats for them would be difficult.

“And do you think the lords will abide by it?” Aelora asked, that was what worried her the most they both knew the risks and consequences coming from those risks.

“I think they will. Baratheon, Tyrell and Tully will, their bannermen will fall in line. Lannister is more Egg’s friend than mine own, and Arryn is someone I can never quite pin down.” Aerion said.

Aelora nodded. “That simply leaves Dorne and the Iron Islands, two regions who’ve not done anything since the first Blackfyre Rebellion.”

Aerion groaned. “Gods, the Prince of Dorne is such a pain, he demands one thing and refuses to deliver on his end. I thought Stark was bad. Perhaps going through with what Bloodraven had proposed might be easier.”

“I think doing anything that Bloodraven proposes might increase the risk of Dornish aggression.” Aelora gently pointed out.

Her husband rolled his eyes before lying back down on her lap. They sat like that for some time, just enjoying one another’s company.


	133. Aerion XXII

** Chapter 133: Aerion XXII **

****

The Sealord’s Palace was vast, filled with glittering towers of gold, enchanted wood, and singers who sounded like angels. There were a great many men and women in the palace, all there no doubt either to curry favour with the Sealord or to witness what was about to happen. For Braavos was to be the scene of a historic meeting between Aerion and Haegon Blackfyre, something their relatives had not achieved, he hoped would be achieved here. An end to the unnecessary fighting and peace in their time. Haegon Blackfyre had not yet arrived, but Aerion had been in Braavos, staying with the Sealord for perhaps three days now.

The man was good company. “I trust, you have found everything to your liking, Your Majesty?” the man asked, he had a slight goatee, that was tinged with blue at the end.

“I have yes, thank you, Braavos is an interesting city, and perhaps when this is all done I might spend some time exploring it.” Aerion replied, he needed to see the Iron Bank and find out more about the Faceless Men, he had a feeling they’d be needed soon.

“Oh you most definitely should, Your Majesty. There is much to see within Braavos, from the Titan, to the Seller’s Market, to Freedom Square, the Hall of a Thousand Lamps, and of course the Naval Gallery.” The Sealord said enthusiastically.

Aerion nodded. “I shall keep them in mind, when I think of where to go to.” There was a brief silence then as they both watched people moving things around, preparing for the conference to come. A thought came to his mind then. “Tell me, Your Eminence, how do you feel about having to stand for election every four years, to be chosen as Sealord?” The concept seemed completely alien and unfathomable to him.

The Sealord chuckled. “You see, I think the term election is misleading. I am not so much elected as confirmed in what is an already predetermined result.” Clearly confusion showed on his face for the Sealord continued. “Usually, at the start of the election period there are four main candidates and a handful of other candidates. The four main candidates are backed by one of the main families in Braavos, consequently, there are agreements reached, and the other candidates disappear. Usually to work for the main candidates. From there, an initial ballot is cast by the people of Braavos, who are usually bullied by the families, and bribed into voting one way or another. Once that ballot is cast, two candidates with the least votes and money are removed. From there it is narrowed down. Another round of voting happens, and whilst that is important it is not the most important thing. No, the most important thing is winning the approval from the main families.” The Sealord paused, looked around and then continued in a whisper. “A lot of money must exchange hands as must property, and then eventually at the end of a three month period, the winner is announced.”

“So, it is in effect, little more than just a sham?” Aerion queried.

“Indeed.” The Sealord replied. “But a necessary one.”

“Necessary?” Aerion asked. “How is this necessary? Surely it would be better for one man to take power and consolidate it, rather than lying to the people?” He knew such a system as operated in Braavos would never work in Westeros, and he was glad for it.

“It is necessary to uphold Braavos. We are a city state that was founded by slaves who escaped from Valyria. We are descendants from those who came here and did not know anything other than hard work. And whilst yes there are families who have risen to prominence and continue to do well, the fundamental truth of Braavos is that we are not equal, but we believe ourselves to be. And therefore there must be an election, otherwise we risk destroying everything that we and our ancestors built.” The Sealord replied simply.

“And do you not feel as though this system has become unnecessarily burdensome? The Iron Bank holds sway, as do the Faceless Men. Is that right? The common man seems to have been left behind.” Aerion pointed out.

The Sealord said nothing for a moment and then replied. “Perhaps, but it is better that the people feel as though they get a say, rather than have their lives dictated to them from above. I know that coming from Westeros that must be difficult to understand, but here, the thought that they are influencing the choices of government, is important.”

Aerion snorted. “And how well are those choices truly being influenced by a dock hand? Very little I would say. The people in Westeros have actual power, through the sword.” It was a thought that terrified him at times, but one he always remembered.

Before the Sealord could reply, a messenger came and whispered something to the man. That forced him to stand, and walk with Aerion to the entrance. There they saw a man dressed in black, with a crown atop his head, he looked almost like Father had, with a scar below his right eye, broad shouldered and muscled. “King Haegon Blackfyre.” The Sealord said shaking the man’s hand. “May I introduce, King Aerion Targaryen.” Aerion stepped forward and shook the man’s hand, he had a firm handshake.

They stared at one another, looking to see if there were any weaknesess, any faultlines they could exploit in one another. Aerion was satisfied with what he saw. “Shall we begin?” He asked.

“Yes, let us.” Haegon replied.

“Excellent, well come with me then gentlemen.” The Sealord said, turning and walking toward the room of mirrors.


	134. Haegon IX

** Chapter 134: Haegon IX **

****

They settled down at a long table in the Room of Mirrors, designed and built during the tenure of Sealord Mogo, it was filled with mirrors, and paintings of some sort of lurid sex scene. Haegon snorted at one image, then focused on the task at hand. He would be lying if he said he was not nervous, he was very much nervous. But he knew to keep his face calm. Aerion Targaryen sat opposite him, looking at him, and looking for all the world like his twin. There were some differences though, Targaryen was thinner and less broad shouldered, and had no visible scars.

The Sealord cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, we are here today to discuss a treaty between your two Kingdoms. As King Aerion was the one who called for this meeting, I would ask that he speak first.”

Haegon bristled slightly at this, but pushed that thought down and listened. “Thank you,” Targaryen began. “I thank you, King Haegon for coming, I know there would have been a great many people telling you not to come here, just as there were a great many people telling me not to come.” The man paused took a sip of water then continued. “However, I think we can both agree that this meeting is important. For too long our families have been at war with one another, the malign influence of Aegor Rivers is gone, as is the influence of Brynden Rivers. We have a chance to reach a decision that our families perhaps thought was not possible. Too much blood has been shed over something that was never quite true.” There was a pause again, then Targaryen finished. “I believe we can reach an agreement, based on trust and agreement. I hope you agree.”

Haegon looked at the man and was struck by how similar the man looked to Father, or what vague memories Haegon had of his father. “I agree. I think that there has been enough fighting for more than enough lifetimes. Old grudges must be put aside for the good of both our realms, therefore I am willing to present an immediate promise now, if you would hear it?” King Aerion looked surprised but nodded, Haegon continued, placing a hand on his heart. “In light of the Seven, the Old Gods, the Drowned God, the Gods of Fire and Water, I do hereby renounce the rights of myself, my descendants and of my father’s descendants to the Iron Throne and to Westeros. We do hereby recognise King Daeron Targaryen, the second of that name as the rightful ruler of Westeros and his descendants as the same.”

Targaryen looked completely stunned at this, his mouth was hanging open slightly, but then he recovered. “I, Aerion Targaryen, King of Westeros, and head of House Targaryen do acknowledge your renunciation and accept it before the Seven, the Old Gods, the Drowned God and the Gods of Fire and Water.” The man paused then continued. “I would also proffer a recognition of your right to rule in Volantis and her surrounding territories, and promise never to engage in hostile combat against your Kingdom, unless there is due cause.”

Haegon nodded acknowledging this concession. “Very well, shall we move onto trade discussions? I know that there has been some discussion beforehand, but I feel codifying that would be of benefit.” He wanted to get tariff free access, such access would make Volantis much more prosperous and weave her off of the Slaver’s Market.

“I think that would be reasonable.” Aerion Targaryen responded. He continued. “I believe tariff free access on trade between our two Kingdoms on all goods would be of the most benefit, limiting the need for unnecessary checks at ports and borders, beyond those already agreed in treaties to be signed today. Would you consider that reasonable?”

“I would.” Haegon replied, indeed that was exactly what he wanted, perhaps Aerion Targaryen was smarter than he’d been led to believe.

“I also propose that we seal everything that has been agreed here today, with two marriages. Something that our elders should have attempted long before any sort of fighting took place.” Aerion Targaryen said. “I have a son and daughter, as do you, why do we not betroth them to each other?”

 Haegon thought about this for a moment, it would be a sensible political move, and would certainly show that they were working together. After a brief pause he said. “I agree. My Daemon to your daughter Dyanna, and my Rohanne to your Jaehaerys.”

“A sensible arrangement.” Targaryen replied. He extended his hand out and Haegon grasped it and shook it. They pulled apart then.

The Sealord spoke. “Shall I bring in the documents then?”

“Yes.” They both replied.

The Sealord clapped his hands and servants entered carrying two documents. “Here you will find everything as you have said now. Discussed and written down properly. All it requires are your signatures, and seals.” The seals were placed before them both. Haegon took a quill, as did Targaryen, they signed the documents, then shook hands once more.

Together with the Sealord they walked out onto the main courtyard, where the people were waiting. The Sealord declared. “Today ends thirty years of fighting and strife, a new dawn has broken for the people of Westeros and Volantis. Here in Braavos, peace has been made by two families. Long may it continue.” There were cheers and whistles, and Haegon knew then that he’d have to remove Calla for good.

 


	135. Aegon XIII

** Chapter 135: Aegon XIII **

****

“You see, the current laws are doing more to harm both the peasantry and the nobility. Under the current rate of charge, you have to pay some one stag for every five workers, something that means you have to pay more in bad times and less in good times. Which ultimately is not a good system for anyone, in the long term. The proposals I have put before you, are that we change this, three stags for every five workers, which would ensure a yield in good times and a conservation in bad times. This would enable proper retention of highly productive workers, and ensure bad workers are removed.” Aegon said, looking at the lords before him.

Lord Osgrey spoke then. “And how do we know that this system will work properly? The last time the rate was changed, it was a temporary change that produced losses for us instead of gains.” Osgrey had land in the Reach that equalled some two hundred thousand golden dragons, he was a rich man, and smart as well.

“A fair comment, and yet that previous rate change you point out was done during the reign of Maegor the Cruel and was abandoned due to the war he was fighting. We are not at war now, and with the treaty of Braavos we shall not be at war again for some time.” Aegon said. “This means that the experimentation with the rate change can take place in an atmosphere of peace, it simply requires your willingness.”

This time Lord Jasper Arryn was the one who spoke. “And what happens if this rate change is brought in and the same thing happens? Yields are high now because we have had good conditions, unless you can change the weather, I am not sure what change or benefit come from rate changes.” Some of the lords nodded in agreement.

Aegon resisted the urge to sigh, these men seemed so very ignorant of the simple economics of what he was proposing. Either that or they were so entrenched in their view that they could not see the positives in what he was suggesting. “The mere fact we are at peace now means that you shall not experience a short fall. There will not be men being sent off to fight and die, somewhere, and thus that means there are more people to work the land and more people to help on said land and within households. This would therefore mean you have more to spend.”

“Which you want us to give to them?” Lord Bolling asked sounding disgusted.

“Yes, to improve the lives of the workers, and to ensure that we do not have people beginning on the streets of King’s Landing, Harrentown or Maidenpool, or Lannisport, it is essential that these changes be implemented.” Aegon insisted.

“Yet those sorts of things are the way of life.” Lord Bolling stated, earning voicings of approval from some of the lords. “Some men succeed, some are left homeless. It is not for us to address their own failings.”

Aegon gritted his teeth, and fought back the urge to snarl at Bolling. He was the Hand of the King, not a minor Prince anymore. “Whilst you might hold such an attitude, the King does not, my lord. Therefore, I have come before you now to put these proposals before you, to ensure you understand just what will change.”

Bolling looked at him and asked. “So, is this a consultation or a demand?”

“Both.” Aegon said, something that earned murmurs of discontent from some of the lords. “The King knows that some of you will object to what he proposes, therefore he has decided to hold this meeting. We have been discussing these policies for three days now, and I have reached a decision.”

“And what, pray tell, is this decision?” Lord Osgrey asked his voice dripping with anger and sarcasm.

“That for the good of the realm these policies shall be implemented. There is not a chance of ensuring that we remain a competitive nation without them.” Aegon said.

“And if we reject these policies?” Lord Arryn asked.

Aegon looked right at Lord Arryn, who was the Queen’s cousin and said. “Then you will be found to be in contempt of the King, and a traitor.” With that he rose and walked out of the room. He made his way back to the Tower of the Hand where his wife and their children were. He slumped into a chair once back into his solar and sighed.

“Tough meeting?” His wife asked, coming to sit by his side.

“Very. I think we might see a revolt before the year is out.” Aegon replied.

“They did not react well?” Betha asked.

“No, and for once I think I agree with Bloodraven. I should have approached the matter differently, without such bluntness. But Aerion told me to do so, and so I did.” Aegon sighed. “I am not sure why I thought it would be easy, these people don’t like change.”

“They will have to adapt though, with the invention of the spinning wheel, and the changing tools for farming, we will fall behind otherwise.” Betha pointed out.

“I know, but I think these people would rather we fall behind than see their privileges challenged.” Aegon replied. “I do not know why someone didn’t do something after the Dance to break down the power of the nobility, or even during the reign of the Conciliator when we had dragons like the Black Dread. They have grown powerful and complacent as the power of the crown has grown weaker.”

“Perhaps taking steps to ensure a peaceful implementation would do wonders to prevent a proper escalation into war?” Betha suggested.

“I will speak with Aerion, perhaps he will agree. I think he also does not want another war.” Aegon said knowing his brother was obsessed with finding this wood’s witch.


	136. Brynden XI

** Chapter 136: Brynden XI **

****

“I shall ask you once more, where is the wood’s witch, and why has she drawn so much attention?” Brynden demanded of the man who stood before him, or rather was kept up right by the two eunuchs supporting him. The man had been resisting everything that had been thrown at him for three weeks now, Brynden had to give him credit of that much at least.

“I will not tell you anything, bastard, kinslayer.” The man replied, spitting at Brynden.

Brynden punched the man in the face, breaking two of his teeth. “You will tell me what you know, otherwise I shall bring the serpents.” The man’s eyes widened with fear. “Yes, you have heard of the serpents, haven’t you?”

The man sputtered. “She is on the left-hand side of the Kingdom, buried deep underground, using the networks that the children used during the Age of Heroes, she continues to dart in and out of them, depending on what specific task she has. That is all I know. I cannot tell you how she is drawing so much attention from the peasantry.”

Brynden nodded. “Very well, you have served your King well.” He whispered a few words and the man slumped down. “Burn the body.” He said, walking out the cell and into another one, where a woman sat. The woman looked at him and smiled.

“I knew you would come back, you always were like that, even when we were children.” The woman said.

“And I did not think you were a traitor, Alyssa. So, tell me what is this woman offering you?” Brynden demanded, before Shiera, Alyssa had been the woman he had found some interest in, but now, now he found nothing but contempt for her.

“I am doing this for the preservation of myself and my husband. I do not care about what else she does. That is all I can tell you.” The woman replied.

Brynden sighed. “Very well, why the change of name then?” When he’d heard, she’d been going by the name of Marianne he had scoffed.

“Oh it was the only name I could think of on the spur of the moment.” The woman replied. There was a moment of silence, then the woman asked. “Are you going to kill me as well?”

Brynden simply stared at her then walked out. He continued walking until he reached the stairs, there he turned around, whispered a word, when he heard the prisoners scream he walked up the stairs. He continued, a member of the Kingsguard accompanying him as he walked out into the courtyard, there was no one out at this late hour, he knew Shiera and the children were asleep, he would not disturb them. He had another place to go to. He passed by alcoves where men were kissing, where women were drinking themselves silly, and where paintings came to life, before eventually reaching his destination. “You wait here.” He told the Kingsguard knight, the man nodded, Brynden pushed the door open, went down the steps and then stopped at the shrine. He closed his eyes and then whispered. “You know, if you keep doing this, I am going to have to kill you eventually.”

“But then you would not have the chance to show the King that you are worthwhile, and where would the fun be in that?” the Witch replied.

Brynden snorted. “You know they are half convinced that there is truly something to the ramblings that Donnor Stark sent southwards. Do you think that Stark himself believes them?”

The Wood’s Witch laughed. “I do not think so, I think Stark simply wants to keep the throne out of his business.” Brynden hummed he could see that point of view. “There was one thing that I wanted to ask though.” The witch said.

“Name it.” Brynden replied.

“I want the King to be the one to kill me.”

“Why?”

“I was born of a King, it is only fitting that a King kill me. I will send my location when the time has come. But first your other nephew must deal with some hardships; he must prove that he can fight for what he believes in.” the witch said.

“I understand.” Brynden said, he opened his eyes and walked back up the stairs, nodding to the Kingsguard knight before making his way back to his rooms, where he bid a goodnight to the guard.

He got changed and got into bed, where Shiera pressed herself against him. “Did you speak with her?”

“I did.” Brynden replied. “She seemed to understand just what was expected of her, as you said she would be.”

“Good, that is good. Do you think the King will suspect anything?” Shiera asked.

“I do not think so, I think he is more concerned with trying to get the reforms his brother has proposed passed and implemented. He simply wants the witch dealt with. And he wants Donnor Stark put back on a leash.” Brynden said.

“Do you still have confidence that Stark can be reeled in? Everything I’ve seen points to two outcomes, and both of them are heading toward war.” Shiera said.

“I am sure of it. Stark wants a son; we both know he will get that. It is simply a case of ensuring he remembers why he is still in power when that son is born.” Brynden said.

“And of course, reminding the King of your good service.” Shiera reminded him.

“Of course.” He replied.


	137. Aerion XXIII

** Chapter 137: Aerion XXIII **

****

“Presenting, Lord Bolling, before the King and court. Lord Bolling stands accused of treason, for failure to implement the reforms to farming and payment of peasantry, implemented by Royal Decree on the third day of the fifth month on the 228th year after Aegon’s Conquest. We stand now on the tenth day, of the twelfth month on the 228th year after Aegon’s Conquest. All rise.” The herald said.

Aerion entered, and walked up the steps, nodding to all present before sitting down. Lord Bolling stood before him, chains bound his hands. “Lord Bolling, you know what you are accused of, you know that by refusing to implement the orders of the Peasantry declaration you were committing treason and breaking the oath you had sworn. We would like to know why you decided to commit such an act.”

Lord Bolling was a tall man, and thin, in another world he might have been a graceful dancer, but here, here he was nothing more than a man refusing to do his bidding. “I would not implement something that breaks the very contract with which our society is built upon. I am not a man given to flights of fancy, like Your Majesty’s brother. I am a man grounded in reality, and I know very well that there is only so much change that can come before the order of society is disrupted for good. Those reforms that you have implemented are the beginning.”

“So, you are afraid of having your position challenged? By who? The reforms have already brought great change and prosperity to the realm, despite being only a few moons old. I do not think that is the true reason that you opposed them.” Aerion replied.

“It is the truth, I would not implement something that I did not agree with. I do not think you have truly thought through these reforms. I think you have given into the idealised dreaming of your brother, and that is not the quality that one looks for in their King. Therefore, I am afraid to say that I will accept whatever sentence you give me.” Bolling replied.

The man seemed to have given a recanting of his oath of fealty, which in of itself was grounds for execution. Aerion did not have to debate for very long before he said. “Lord Bolling, for the crime of recanting of your oath of fealty, for the crime of refusing to implement the law of the land despite repeated chances, you are sentenced to execution.” He looked at the captain of the guards and said. “Take the prisoner to the block, we shall get this over and done with.”

There were murmurs at that, usually, the execution would take place within the throne room itself, but Aerion was tired, and he needed to make an example of Bolling. He rose, the Kingsguard and court followed as they made their way to the centre of King’s Landing, some time later. The herald called out. “Before you stands a man who swore an oath to his King, he promised to uphold the law, and yet he broke that same oath. That man now stands condemned.” There were roars of approval from the people of the capital, it seemed they too had grown tired of Bolling.

Aerion looked at Bolling and said. “Have it done.” Bolling was forced onto the block, the executioner came, and swung, it needed two swings to remove the man’s head. “Place in on traitor’s gate.” He commanded before turning and making his way back to the Red Keep.

Inside the Red Keep, Aegon came and found him. “You know that’s only going to embolden those who thought like Bolling did as well. Couldn’t you have sent him to the Night’s Watch?”

“I offered him the Watch, he refused. It was either execute him or keep him locked up. We both know what becomes of those who remained locked up within the Black Cells, they either escape or they die. Better to execute him. It will send a clear message.” Aerion replied.

“And if the lords rebel?” Aegon asked, something akin to fear in his voice.

Aerion sighed. “Then they rebel, and we will kill them and install new lords in their place.” With that Aerion walked passed his brother and into the gardens. He had always liked the gardens, it was quiet and peaceful here.

His brother followed him however. “And what if they rebel, and then Stark supports them? We both know he hasn’t committed completely to the reforms.”

Aerion looked at his brother, and was tempted to ask what his brother wanted from him. “If Stark rebels, then we shall use our friend in Winterfell, kill him and then install Willam Stark as Lord of Winterfell, and marry Willam’s son Edwyle to Donnor’s daughter. You already know this though brother, so what is it that truly worries you.”

“I don’t know completely, I just get the feeling that something dark is going to come from either Stark or another lord, and I am not sure if we have the strength to remove it. The peace with the Blackfyres is great and all, but I am just not sure whether it is enough.” Aegon replied.

Aerion turned and placed his hands on his brother’s shoulders. “Egg, regardless of what happens, we shall be there to fight it together. We are united now, Bloodraven is not hand, his meddling will be limited compared to what it was before. Of that I am sure.” His brother nodded, though whether he was completely convinced or not, Aerion did not know.


	138. Jasper V

** Chapter 138: Jasper V **

****

 

“The King has gone against every agreed upon social contract that we know of, he has broken agreements that were in place from the time of the Age of Heroes. This cannot be allowed to stand, he must be brought to justice for this.” Lord Vypren said, his face going red from the effort of speaking.

“I agree,” Jasper said. “The King is veering into territory that not even Maegor the Cruel ventured into. Executing a lord without a proper trial, despite the man asking for one, is something that sets a very dangerous precedent. Perhaps we should consider removing his brother from the position of hand.”

“How would we do that? The two are as close as they have ever been.” Lord Florent said. “The King is never going to remove his brother. He’s more likely to throw Bloodraven in the black cells, but the man has nowhere near enough power for us to go after him.”

Lord Vance spoke then. “I think we must look for other ways to consider removing the Hand of the King. I have heard that his heir, Prince Duncan fools around with common born children, and has even given the position of an aid to one such child. A girl named Jenny serves as the Hand’s daughter’s companion.”

Jasper looked at the man. “That is not cause enough to remove him, or even consider forcing the King to remove him. The boy is only that, a boy, he is not of marriageable age. No, indeed I think I have found another way.”

“What way is that?” Lord Vypren asked. The man was suspicious by nature, something Jasper could understand given what had happened to him previously.

“Yes, do inform us of this great plan of yours, my lord.” Lord Cuy said, that man looked as if he suspected Jasper of something. Luckily, Jasper had always been good at keeping his expression blank.

“I believe we must put pressure on the King’s advisors. The Master of Laws is a man who knows more about the laws of this realm than any save the King and the Master of Whispers. I think if we apply the right amount of pressure from a legal standpoint, the King will acknowledge that he must remove his brother, for the good of the realm.” Jasper said.

Lord Osgrey spoke then. “I agree with Lord Arryn, this is the best method to get the change we desire, anything else will shed more unnecessary blood.” Osgrey was a smart man, and rich, he had adapted to the reforms, but had also maintained a foot in their camp.

“I do not think this would do anything other than make us seem weak.” Lord Cafferen said, the man rarely spoke, he was definitely more of a man of action than anything else. “I think that we must resort to arms to answer this direct breach of the feudal code. Otherwise what are we? Nothing more than lords without teeth. The King wants to take our power away from us, and we cannot allow that to happen.”

“I agree with Cafferen.” Vypren said unsurprisingly. “We must show the King that we mean business, and that if he wants to remove our traditional powers, that we will fight to defend them. This insubordination cannot be tolerated.”

“The King must be reminded that he serves at our pleasure.” Lord Cafferen continued. “I think the Targaryens have forgotten that.”

Jasper waited, he needed one more of them to say something. “I think that perhaps the war needs to be widespread, it cannot just be us who rebel. We need outside help. Perhaps Donnor Stark can be of assistance, and Lord Torwyn Greyjoy?” Lord Cuy suggested.

“I have sent them letters, I am sure they will respond positively, neither of them like the King, and would be more than happy to see him replaced.” Lord Cafferen said.

“Who would you replace the King with?” Jasper asked. “He has two sons, and two daughters, Maester Aemon renounced his rights to the throne, and that leaves his brother, Aegon, the current hand. Would you install a regency?”

“Yes, a regency for his son Jaehaerys, that way we can conduct the affairs of state and ensure that things go according to the direction we want them to. You are the Queen’s cousin, and therefore related to Prince Jaehaerys. It would make sense for you to lead the regency.” Lord Cafferen said.

“I say we call for a vote, those in favour of armed resistance, say aye.” Lord Cuy said.

Half a dozen of those gathered said aye, whilst the other said nothing. “Those in favour of peaceful means of resistance, raise your hands.” Jasper said. He raised his hand, alongside Lord Osgrey. They were the only two.

“It is decided then, we shall move from this meeting, and meet again on the field of battle, to remind the King of what his duties are.” Lord Cafferen said.

The lords rose to depart, but Jasper called out. “Just one more thing, my lords.” They stopped where they were and looked at him. He knocked on the table, and the doors opened. Prince Aegon entered the room, accompanied by some forty men wearing the red and black of House Targaryen.

“By order of His Majesty King Aerion Targaryen, you are under arrest for plotting against the crown.” The Prince declared.

Lord Cafferen turned to Jasper. “Why?” the man asked.

“You didn’t honestly think I was going to allow a lot of second tier lords overtake my family and my power base did you? You are short sighted and blinded, you will lose.” Jasper said. Cafferen and his friends were taken away, leaving Jasper alone with the Prince.

“Thank you for your service, my lord.”

“Not at all, thank you for giving me this opportunity.” Jasper replied bowing.


	139. Donnor X

** Chapter 139: Donnor X **

****

“My lord, the reports are positive, the situation in the northern lands near the wall has improved. Of course the Lord Commander continues to express some dismay over the loss of control he has over shipments of food and water, but other than that all seems well.” Artos said.

The new Maester, Maester Boremund spoke then. “My lord, are you sure interfering with the Night’s Watch is wise? They have been an independent body for a great many years.”

“Per the agreement with the first Lord Commander and per the reassurance given by King Jaehaerys, the Night’s Watch is an independent body yes, but they get their food supply and their water supply from Winterfell. Therefore, it is only right that as Lord of Winterfell I help ensure that the organisation functions properly. We cannot have a repeat of Long Lake.” Donnor said. The maester’s predecessor had fallen down a flight of stairs after threatening to speak with the council of maesters about the discovery in the godswood.

Boremund remained silent, unlike his predecessor this maester knew when to speak and when to keep quiet. Aregelle spoke then. “And of course Lord Umber is more than pleased to see more men from Winterfell patrolling the lands north of Last Hearth, the Night’s Watch continues to show that it is not fit for purpose, when will the King address that issue?”

Donnor held up a piece of paper that had arrived from the capital that morning. “It seems that the King does indeed wish to discuss this matter. He has invited me to a meeting at Oldstones in three weeks’ time. He wishes to discuss this, the letters that the rebels sent and other such issues.”

“Will you attend the meeting?” Aregelle asked. He knew she was thinking about their children, they had four daughters but no son, and with the recent health scare he had had, it looked likely that he would have to arrange a marriage between his eldest daughter and Willam’s son Edwyle, to secure the succession.

“I believe that it is only fair and right to do so. The King has given us leeway when it has come to the Poor Law Reforms, and has ensured that we have known everything that could possibly be done. He has also dealt with Cafferen, Cuy, Vance, Vypren and the others who rebelled quite precisely, and whilst they’ve seen their lands reduced, their houses have not lost their titles. I think going to meet with the King would be the best way to resolve the issues that are currently facing the two of us. For the good of the north.” Donnor said.

“Do you think the King can be trusted?” Aregelle asked. “He did execute Lord Bolling rather quickly, and he used Jasper Arryn in a manner that seems as though he knew something was going on. Furthermore, Bloodraven has not been quite as in contact with you, for some time. Is it reasonable to expect a decent outcome from this meeting?”

Artos was the one who answered that question. “I understand why you would have concerns, my lady, but everything that I have seen and been informed of, in the court at King’s Landing makes it appear as though King Aerion has finally resolved the disputes within the realm. It has been a year and a half since he implemented those reforms, and a year since he executed Cafferen and the man’s co-conspirators. In that time, the Yronwoods, Peakes and Reynes have thrown their support behind the reforms. The only true hold out has been House Lannister which has done as we have done. I would recommend that by going south to meet the King, we are showing that we are far more willing to meet and discuss key issues than Lord Lannister, who though he supported the reforms, has been reluctant to implement them fully. This could ensure that the King sees us in a positive light and ensures that we can benefit more from the expansion and surveys he is planning for the new waters.”

As always Artos spoke eloquently and ensured that the full message was put across. Aregelle did not look convinced but she did ask. “You think that by going south, to meet the King, the King will give his permission for a town to be built on the western coast? And for mining of gold in that same region to be done?”

Donnor spoke then. “I would think so, considering the King wants to maximise how productive Westeros is to ensure it competes with Braavos and the Slaver cities as well as Volantis. I think going south makes far more sense that remaining here, where nothing would be achieved other than a potential air of suspicion.”

His wife seemed to consider this for a moment, then she nodded. “Very well then, if you think that going south will accomplish something then I support you, my lord.”

Donnor smiled at his wife, promising with his eyes to make amends for their time apart later that evening. To Maester Boremund, he said. “I want a letter sent to the King informing him that I would be delighted to meet him at Oldstones.” The maester made a note of that, and for once Donnor felt content.


	140. Haegon X

** Chapter 140: Haegon X **

****

Haegon watched as the men hit the rocks before them, watching as the rocks fell and the substance buried deep within them was revealed. The alchemists took the substance and guided it into the tubes, and then sealed them, before taking them away for later inspection. The discovery of the substance had led to the growth of stocks within Volantis that had seen the economy boom and trade with Westeros grow. Both sides were now making a profit, gold, silver, metal, iron, and now this substance. All of it was working well.

“So, tell me, brother, what word do you have of our competitors?” He asked.

His brother Baelon, who shifted and changed to suit the need of the time spoke softly. “Meeren remains engaged in a civil war, as the main families fight amongst themselves. Braavos is currently undergoing reform in its navy and financial capabilities, there is a new governor of the Iron Bank also, who appears to be against the current Sealord. As for Yunkai, they and Astapor have allied together, likely to take land from Meeren, both of them agreed to the treaty that you proposed.”

“Good, and what of our sister cities, Tyrosh and Myr? Do they abide by our agreements?” Haegon asked, he had imposed terms on them after defeating them in their attempted usurpation of his authority a year ago.

“They do, Sire. Indeed, the Archon of Tyrosh recently won re-election after running on the promise of keeping Volantis as a friend and not a foe.” Baelon responded.

Haegon smiled. “Good, then they are finally learning where the wind is blowing.” He paused to look at one of the rock surfaces, it was clean, but the hint of red and green was still there, a sulfuric smell echoing after the fact. “Come, let us venture to the ground.” Together they climbed the ladder and arrived to the surface. “So, tell me brother, do you believe that we shall have broken the last of those withholding their support before year’s end?”

“With Calla imprisoned, and with Daemon Bittersteel having recommitted to your cause, alongside the switching of people like Strickland and others, I think we have already achieved that, Sire. There is no room for opposition against you, not when the people are doing so well and our treasury is full.” Baelon replied.

“Then why do I feel as if something is missing?” Haegon asked. And it was true, no matter how many times he reminded himself of the achievements, there was always something lurking at the back of his mind, there to remind him that all was not completely well.

“Perhaps it is the fact that the red priests remain at large, despite the purge. My sources say they are hiding on the Demon Road, and growing stronger by the moment.” Baelon supplied.

“Do we know precisely what is there on the demon road?” Haegon asked, no one had ever bothered to map the place, and apart from rumours nobody was sure who or what lived there.

Aenys appeared then. He bowed before Haegon and said. “Sire, from what my scouts have reported, it is merely just barrenness. I am not sure whether to put any truth in the rumours of demons and ghouls. Considering what happened during the Doom of Valyria, and the substances we have found recently within Volantis itself, I am leaning more and more to being open minded.”

Baelon snorted. “You cannot be serious, brother, surely you of all people would know that such things are simply stories. Demons and ghouls? They are things to warn people away from a thing that many do not understand or fear.”

“Then why not lead an expedition to the Demon Road to see for ourselves what is and isn’t there?” Aenys asked, and before either Haegon or Baelon could respond Aenys spoke. “Ah, because the soldiers and the military would not abide by it.”

Baelon was about to respond when a messenger appeared and bowed, before handing him a letter. Baelon opened it and read it quickly, before handing it to Haegon who read it also, he laughed. “It seems then that the Red Priests are gathering an army.” Haegon said aloud.

Aenys looked shocked. “Of what?”

“Of themselves. It seems they are bringing an army of red priests to retake Volantis and the Kingdom we have built from it.” Haegon replied.

Aenys burst out laughing. “Do they think their fire tricks are going to win them the city back? Against the Golden Company and the soldiers of Volantis?”

“No, they are hoping that their supposed powers, and the belief that their powers are going to be enough to bring the people to their side.” Haegon said. Haegon looked at Baelon. “What is the status of the red god within the city?”

“Broken, the temples were destroyed by the people, their gold taken and distributed across the land. They won’t get any support from the people, though their presence might be enough to scare some of the people.” Baelon replied.

Haegon nodded. “Then I suggest we ramp up production of stock, and that we all three begin using the product, to ensure proper capabilities.”

“But brother, we do not know the full effect that the product could have on a person’s system.” Baelon replied.

“Then it is a risk we must take, to protect our city and Kingdom from the threats of the red priests.” Haegon said.

His brother looked as if he were going to protest, but instead he stopped and said. “I will ensure the stocks are prepared.”

Haegon nodded his assent. “Good.”


	141. Aerion XXIV

 

** Chapter 141: Aerion XXIV **

****

Oldstones was little more than a ruin, but it was a place where Aerion knew Donnor Stark would hold his behaviour in check. It was revered by both the Faith and the Old Gods due to its symbolism as a place of resistance to the Ironborn, and to the unity of the Riverlands. He considered rebuilding it and giving it to his son Aelor when the time was right. Though with Aegon already in Harrenhal perhaps that would not be the sensible thing to do. Donnor Stark sat opposite him in the grand tent he had erected for the occasion, the man’s beard was littered with grey, and his hair was slowly greying as well. He looked tired.

“Lord Stark,” Aerion began. “I thank you for coming. I know that you are a busy man, but I thought given recent events it would be best to speak to you in person.”

Aerion waited and as he had thought Stark replied courteously. “I agree, Your Majesty. I feel that there is much we must discuss.”

“First and foremost is the fact that a letter was sent to you by the rebels led by Lord Cafferen. They asked for your assistance in aiding their rebellion. I wish to know if you ever considered aiding them at any point? I know things between the throne and Winterfell have been tense.” Aerion said plainly, there was no point beating around the bush in this scenario.

Stark also gave a straight forward answer. “I received the letter and burned it. I did not think to ever assist them.” Stark paused as if considering his response then continued. “I admit I should have written to you before of my suspicions, but by the time I got around to it you had already arrested and charged the rebels. I never once considered assisting them, despite our disagreements, I am still a loyal subject.”

Aerion looked at the man, really looked at him, taking in where his eyes rested-on him as it happened- and the way his hands remained still. He could not detect any hint of a lie, and given his years in King’s Landing, a snake pit of hell that it was, he trusted his ability to tell when someone was lying to him. “Very well.” He said, deciding to move onto other matters. “The reason I called for this summit was to discuss the recent findings of gold, silver, and iron on the western coast of the north.” He saw Stark tense with anticipation. “I know that you will wish to mine these materials to produce a profit, I believe that such a thing would be very beneficial to the north and the kingdom as a whole. Therefore, I have already signed a document giving you permission to do so.” Here he handed over a document bearing his sigil and with the date stamped onto it. “These document states you shall be able to mine the minerals, keeping seventy percent of the overall yield profits from the venture, whilst the crown shall take an immediate twenty percent from the drawing of the sales, whilst ten percent shall be taken in tax.”

He could see the surprise in Stark’s face, clearly the man had not expected such lenient terms. “That is acceptable to me.” Stark said simply.

“In order to better mine the minerals, you have been granted the rights to build a town on the Western coast, on the Stony Shore, with the rights to maintain a port and fifty ships.” Aerion said. “The Crown shall provide forty percent of the funding for this development.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Donnor Stark said, it was clear the man had not been expecting any of this to be the result of their talk.

“Finally, we have learned from our own surveyors that there is a great wealth of resources within the eastern coast, toward the side of the White Knife. We would recommend the construction of a canal on the western bank of the White Knife to ensure proper production and ease of transport.” Aerion said. “Once again the Crown shall contribute thirty percent to the development of this canal.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Donnor Stark said. “I have one question, where shall I get the workers for this? This will be quite the task, and the north is not so populous.”

Aerion smiled, he had thought over this. “Workers shall come from the Riverlands and the Vale. Lord Royce and Lords Blackwood and Tully have already agreed to send workers your way. I wish to see construction start before the year is out.”

Donnor Stark looked surprised and Aerion smiled to himself, the old fox was not as smart as he thought he was. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

Aerion then said something he had been waiting to say for a great many days. “Another thing. We know that you are lacking in a male heir, however as a sign of our commitment to improving relations, we have spoken to your brother Willam Stark, and he has suggested a way to keep your blood on the winter seat. We shall put forward an amendment to the lords, allowing women to inherit the winter seat directly, thus meaning that your eldest daughter may become Lady of Winterfell, should you bear no sons.”

Donnor Stark looked both relieved and shocked. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“We have just one condition though.” Aerion said.

“Of course.” Donnor replied.

“We wish for your daughter to marry our son Prince Maekar.” Aerion said.

Stark looked surprised by this but he nodded. “Of course, we would be honoured.”

Aerion nodded. “Then let us sign the documents to confirm all that has been discussed here.” He clapped his hands and his servants brought out the document, one for both of them. They signed them both, then affixed their seals, before shaking hands. Aerion happy that he had pulled one over the Lord of Winterfell.


	142. Haegon XI

** Chapter 142: Haegon XI **

****

The Red Priests had come with their red knights, men who were likely former slaves, dressed in head to foot in red, with shining armour and flames. He knew that the flames were illusions, that they would be easily blown out, but he did not order such a thing. He wanted his victory to be all the more impressive. Their leader, one man named Benerro came forward, stopping his horse. He was dark as soot, and with long red hair. He spoke commandingly.

“Haegon Blackfyre, you are a demon and a traitor, to the Red God. We demand that you surrender and hand over the city of Volantis.”

Dressed head to toe in armour, with the black dragon on it, Haegon replied. “I see no traitors but those before me. You are the ones who refused to bend the knee. The people have bent the knee and recognised the barbarity of your order. I shall give you a chance to leave now, or face my wrath.”

Benerro snorted. “Listen here, boy, we have been in Volantis since before the Valyrian Empire expanded to the extent it did. We have been within the city since before you or your family were ever conceived. We shall not be removed by someone such as yourself. We shall take the city back. It is our birthright.”

“You are more than welcome to try.” Haegon retorted.

Benerro snarled, words coming followed by fire. Haegon raised his sword, forged in the heat of ice, and sliced the flame in half. Benerro looked stunned from what Haegon could see. Causing him to laugh. “You fool, you do not know anything.” Haegon said. “Fire.” He roared. His brother Baelon gave the command and arrows containing traces of the water source within Volantis were fired. The moment they pierced the armour of the red knights they fell to the floor writhing in pain. “Again.” Haegon commanded, and the arrows hit the knights causing them to still.

Benerro looked perturbed. He summoned up another fire ball, but this time, before he could unleash it Haegon ordered an arrow fired. This time, the arrow contained oil, and when it hit Benerro it lit up like a burning bush. Benerro screamed, and the fire died out. The man looked at him and snarled. “We shall retake our city.” He barked out commands and more of the red knights came. This time Haegon waited till they were nearly at the walls before ordering for oil vats to be poured on them. Arrows were fired, and they caught fire, exploding like something out of a practical joke.

He heard a clamour behind him, turned and saw the people trying to see what was happening. Calmly he said. “Out there stand the remnants of the old order. Red Priests of a God who did not bring peace, or prosperity but only pain and suffering. They are trying to take this city, and restore it to how it was in the past. Is that something you want?”

“No!” Came the cry.

“Is that something you want?” He asked again.

“No!” Came the emphatic reply.

“Then let us show them. Grab a barrel of oil, and throw it at these fools.” Haegon commanded, watching as the people of Volantis hurried to their task, making their way to the barrels, picking them up and then hurrying over to the walls. “You shall throw the oil, then step back and let the soldiers get on with their work.” Haegon commanded. The people nodded. He watched with joy as they threw the oil, the soldiers lit their arrows and unleashed them. This happened eight or nine times before the Red Priests called back what was left of their red knights. Aenys having come and reported the same thing.

Benerro was there, burned to a crisp, but still standing. Haegon called down to him. “Enough of this sorcery, Benerro. You were a soldier once, I know. Come, let us see how good you truly are. Without the magic, without the tricks.”

“You shall fight to your death, boy.” Benerro replied, stepping down off his horse.

Haegon smiled, turned, walked down the steps, stopping to take a drink and feeling the water and substance pour through his veins. He blinked, the gates were opened and he walked out to face Benerro. The man was old, but he was strong. He wielded a sword, as did Haegon. Benerro moved forward and swung, Haegon easily dodged the blow and managed to nick the old man. Benerro swung again and missed, he swung a third time and this time Haegon allowed him to strike and connect. He feigned a wound, but struck hard in return, leaving Benerro with a cut above the eye and on the cheek.

Benerro fought back hard, he was like an old animal that was determined to keep fighting right to the bitter, bloody end, with no regard for anything other than pride. Perhaps that would be his downfall. Haegon continued to wear the old man down, swinging this way and that, swaying occasionally, before striking him with a solid one-two and ensuring the man could not truly use his arms. It got to the point where Benerro’s sword broke and instead of surrendering, the man started trying to grapple with Haegon’s sword.

All that got him was a loss of fingers. Deciding he’d had enough of that, Haegon placed his sword to the side and wrestled with Benerro, in terms of sheer strength the man was good, but he was old, and Haegon had the age on his side. One punch, Benerro’s nose bled, another punch, Benerro doubled over with pain, a third punch and Benerro fell to the floor and did not get up. He heard the cheers from Volantis and roared. “This is our city, and any who try and conquer it shall be met with force.” He turned to the red knights, and those of the priests who were left. “Leave, and never return.” He turned and walked back into the city, as he passed his brother, he gave the command. “Light them up.”

His brother nodded, words were said, then arrows were launched, and as they hit their targets, the barrels buried under the ground caught fire as well, causing explosions to last for some time. Haegon watched the sights and then turned and walked away, hearing the cheering of the people, but also feeling somewhat sickened.


	143. Shiera VII

** Chapter 143: Shiera VII **

****

Shiera could not quite believe that the day of her daughter’s wedding was fast approaching. Melissa was now nineteen namedays old and was a beautiful woman, with flowing silver hair, and one violet eye and one green eye-something Brynden had attributed to his own mother- and she was to be the future Lady of Castamere with her marriage to Ser Roger Reyne. Her sons Aerys and Daeron had grown into fine young man as well, and with the marriage coming up so very soon, Shiera thought it important to bring the family together to talk about the future. Even Brynden was there, despite how busy he was as Master of Whispers.

Shiera looked at her children one by one and then said. “We are approaching an important day, Melissa is to wed the heir of an important family within the moon, and as such, I thought it important that we discuss the future of the family. For whilst things might seem simple, they never truly are.” The visions of her family being torn asunder were not there anymore, but she knew they could become a reality at any point, though with the Red Priests destroyed she did not think that likely. “Therefore, I think that it would be appropriate to ask you all what you wish to achieve from the next few years. Starting with you Melissa.”

Melissa looked slightly surprised, but then she said. “I wish to be a good wife to my husband, and to serve the crown in the way that I best can.” Her daughter paused and then continued. “I know Roger through our communication, he appears to be an honourable man, with good intentions and I think that he will be a good person to be married to. I know he will ensure that the reforms the King has implemented remain true to their intention.”

Shiera nodded. “And do you think he will provide you with the happiness that any good husband should give to their wife?” She looked at Brynden then and smiled, she could never understand why she had rejected his proposals before. Sometimes she wished that she had accepted the first one.

“I think so. He has always asked about my interests with great interest, and always followed them up with some interesting tidbits about this or that, and more questions. I have done the same for him as well, I think it will be a good marriage, Mother.” Melissa answered truthfully.

Shiera nodded, that was all she could ask for her daughter. She then looked at her oldest son Daeron, he was a tall young man, with a look that reminded her a lot of Daemon Blackfyre, but without Daemon’s ego, he was a kind and caring young man. “What of you, Daeron, do you still wish to serve in the Kingsguard?”

Her son had expressed this desire from a young age, and he had earned his knighthood at the age of sixteen after helping defeat bandits in the Riverlands. He was a good swordsman and an interesting commander, according to Lonnel Snow the Commander In Chief of the Forces. “I do, Mother. I think that is the best way I can be of use to the family. I am not a politician, nor am I good at cultivating land and money, like Aerys is. I would prefer to put my talents to use instead of squandering them.”

“And what has the Lord Commander said?” Shiera asked, the Lord Commander had served under King Aerys, King Aelor, King Daeron and now the current King, he had earned renown for his patience and skill as a swordsman and commander.

“He has said that when the next opening comes he will put my name forward to the King. He is sure that the King will agree.” Daeron replied.

Shiera nodded, she was not sure if she approved of this choice, Brynden had remained silent about that, instead focusing on their daughter and Aerys, it seemed as though he couldn’t connect with Daeron, which saddened her greatly. She turned to Aerys then and asked. “And how go your studies? Have you found your time as a shadow minister useful?”

Aerys had been serving as a member of the under body of the small council for a year and a half, learning the art of secret collecting and also managing land and money, in preparation for the day when Brynden retired, a day she suspected would come sooner rather than later. Aerys smiled. “I have found my time very useful, I have learned a lot. Such as the fact that the Grand Maester frequents a brothel in the Street of Silk every third day, and he always brings back one or two girls and one boy, from there. I have also learned that Lord Merryweather is trying to get in on the trade of dragon’s blood, and is trying to convince the Queen’s cousin to get her to put this before the Queen and King.”

Shiera looked at Brynden for confirmation of this, and her husband nodded. “It is true, we are planning on arresting Merryweather for illegal bargaining on the morrow. His son will become the Lord of his estates.” Shiera smiled then.

“And what else have you learned?” She asked then.

“That the King and Donnor Stark agreed to a secret clause in the treaty which would mean that instead of Prince Maekar marrying Donnor Stark’s eldest daughter, Edwyle Stark would marry her instead, Prince Maekar was only included to throw any dissenters to Donnor Stark out into the open.” Aerys said.

“Did you know about that?” Shiera asked her husband.

Brynden laughed. “I did not, Aerys was the one who discovered it. He used his little birds quite cleverly.”

Shiera smiled. “Very well, it is settled then. All looks well with the family, should something change, I expect you all to bring this up.” Her children nodded, and with that she smiled and let them go. She turned to Brynden and whispered. “Do you think Aerys will make a good master of whispers?”

“I think he will be better than me, given the right training. He has an instinct for it. I’ve started thinking perhaps we should have named him Varys instead, considering how good he is at hiding and whispering.” Brynden chuckled.


	144. Aelora IX

** Chapter 144: Aelora IX **

****

Aerion was out travelling the kingdom, visiting various lords and ensuring everything was working over well. Bloodraven’s daughter Melissa had just married Roger Reyne, heir to Castamere, and as such Shiera Seastar and her family were spending a few weeks with the Reynes to help the girl settle in. The girl’s marriage had prompted Aelora to think about her own children, specifically Dyanna and Jaehaerys, both of whom were going to be marrying people who would consolidate the peace that Aerion had worked so hard for.

Dyanna looked much like she had at that age, long wavy hair, piercing eyes and a face shaped like a cherub, she was smart, her daughter and she would make a good Queen, of that Aelora was sure. Jaehaerys had her height, but it seemed he had his father’s brains. He was always asking questions, always dreaming about something or the other. It was time to see just what they knew about the world. “So,” Aelora began. “Both of you will be getting married in four years time  and as such I wish to know just what it is you think you know about the world. Dyanna, since you are to be marrying Haegon Blackfyre’s heir, I shall ask you questions about Volantis and its dependencies.” Volantis had an empire now, that included Lys, the Golden Fields and the towns of the Demon Road, and it seemed that there would be more added. “Jaehaerys, as heir to the throne of Westeros, I shall ask you questions pertaining to the realm.” Her son nodded, and she was confident he would be able to answer everything she threw at him.

“Very well, let us begin.” Aelora said. She looked at Dyanna and asked her. “Dyanna, tell me, what is Volantis known for?”

Her daughter took a moment before speaking, there she saw hints of Aerion. “Volantis was previously known for being the last true stronghold of Valyria, and it was famous for its towering black wall, the biggest navy and army in the known world, and of course the red priests. Since King Haegon has taken over, it has become a centre for trade, with the money going to develop a system to ensure that the poor of the city can find something to do with their time. It has also developed trade routes, and has cleared out the Demon Road. And it has led the way in the discovery of new technologies and uses for minerals.”

Aelora nodded, impressed. “And what of the political setting within Volantis?” Aelora herself had had a hard time memorising the twists and turns of the city Kingdom, she wondered how her daughter had fared.

To her credit, Dyanna answered without hesitation. “There are a body of advisors, chosen by the blood of Volantis, who serve as the delegation for the people to the King, the King also has his own ministers. There are deliberations held within the great chamber of the King’s palace, but ultimately decisions are made by the King and his immediate council. King Haegon has spent much of his reign consolidating his hold over Volantis and the Golden Fields, and has ensured the Golden Company’s complete loyalty to him and his heirs. Much like father has done here.”

Aelora nodded, very impressed. “Good, very good.” She turned to Jaehaerys then and asked him. “Now, Jaehaerys, tell me, what do you understand about the term cultural denigration.”

Her son laughed, then sobered up. “It is a term that was coined by the Minor Sect of the Faith during their short-lived rebellion, in which they decreed that the kingdom was experiencing an erosion or denigration of the values and the beliefs that had made it come together under the Conqueror. Since their defeat, Father has ordered an enquiry into this and has come up with several solutions to the issue, which is what led to the promotion of the reforms currently in place, as well as the current progress he is under.”

Aelora nodded, she had always thought the term cultural denigration to be completely hysterical, there had been no denigration of the culture within Westeros, indeed there had been more praise coming from everyone who visited. “And, do you think the visits and the reforms are working?” This would be her son’s ultimate test, depending on what he replied with, she would know whether he was being given proper unbiased education or filtered.

Jaehaerys paused, considering his answer. “I think that some of the reforms are working. We have already seen the growth of exports from the Westerlands, the Reach, the Vale and the Riverlands due to the reforms. The Stormlands has finally seen positive growth for the first time in decades. However, I think with what is being proposed in the north and how things are developing there, that that will be the biggest test for the reforms.”

“And do you think they will succeed?” Aelora pressed.

“I think it depends on whether Donnor Stark wishes to have them succeed, and whether he and Father can put aside the shadow of Bloodraven.” Jaehaerys replied.

Aelora nodded satisfied, her son was clearly not being fed lies to earn favour with him. “Very well. To me it seems that your views are going toward the right course. We shall have these meetings every two weeks from now on. And if there are any concerns that you have about anything you are learning, then you are to let me know, is that understood?”

“Yes, Mother.” Both of them replied.

“You may go.” Aelora said. The children bowed and left. Aelora remained, thinking over everything, it had been agreed that their children would marry Haegon’s children in 236 A.C. and that was four years from now, that meant she had enough time to prepare for every eventuality, she didn’t want to but knowing Westeros as she did, she had to. She prayed they would have many years left before Jaehaerys had to ascend the throne, and for her and Aerion to grow old.


	145. Jaehaerys I

** Chapter 145: Jaehaerys I **

****

Red Lake had towers that looked as if they’d be more fitting in Harrenhal, where Uncle Aegon resided. The walls were made from brick on the outside, but marble in the interior. Father had told him that Lord Crane had always been quite the vain man, but that he was a useful man to have, especially considering some of the rumours circulating about Lord Lannister and his wife’s mysterious disappearance. Lannister had come, the towering giant of a man, bringing his sons Tywald and Tion, whilst Roger Reyne had come with his father, Lord Robert. Reacher lords like Osgrey, Rowan, Oakheart, and even Tyrell and aunt Daella had come. It was to be a grand meeting on Father’s progress, which Jaehaerys now aged 15 had been allowed to come on.

Tywald smiled as he came and sat down next to him, the older boy radiating confidence. “So, Your Royal Highness, did you enjoy the festivities?”

Jaehaerys laughed, there’d been a lot of drinking and jesting last night, and father had allowed him more than his usual two beers with the evening meal. He’d woken with a bit of a sore head in the morning. “Aye, it was good enough.” Roger Reyne sat down next to him also. “But I think Roger here might have stolen the show.” They howled with laughter, Roger had gotten very drunk and challenged Ser Morys Oakheart, known as the bull to a wrestling match, one which he’d lost.

Roger grimaced. “I think that was still a worthy fight. I gave him a concussion.” Sure enough they all looked at where the bull was standing and he looked a bit unsteady.

“What did your father have to say?” Tywald asked. Robert Reyne was known to be a harsh man.

“He berated me, and gave me a right caning, or he tried to anyway. He was fairly drunk himself.” Roger replied. “He fell over when he went to hit me.”

Jaehaerys and his friends roared with laughter at that, drawing a few curious stares, but then Ser Willem of the Kingsguard stepped forward and the stares avoided their gaze. Jaehaerys looked at Tywald. “What about you? Have you done much digging into Crane’s heir?” Lord Crane’s eldest son was a man named Gerold who was the same age as Tywald, but he was not here. It seemed he had been sent off somewhere, and Jaehaerys was curious as to where the young man could’ve gone.

“I did.” Tywald replied, Jaehaerys and Roger leaned in to get a better impression. “It seems that he was being trained by one of Bloodraven’s spies, in the arts of secret gathering and eavesdropping. From there he was to head to Braavos to influence the Sealord’s election, but something happened. It seems that he’s not going off to Braavos after all.”

Now that was very interesting, why would Crane’s heir not be going off to Braavos, if he had indeed been trained by someone related to Bloodraven? “Do you know why?” Jaehaerys asked.

“A woman must have been involved.” Roger said with conviction, Jaehaerys looked at his friend with an eyebrow raised. Roger continued. “It’s true. The Cranes are known for their penchant for sleeping with the wrong woman, hell our host slept with three women who were Lady Tyrell’s ladies in waiting and got them all with child.” Jaehaerys snorted, so that explained the look of disgust Aunt Daella had showed the man. “I wouldn’t be surprised if his heir was similar.”

Jaehaerys snorted. “Though is that enough reason for someone who if being considered for Braavos, is clearly of a high talent, to be dismissed from the posting?”

“Maybe, we don’t know if there is really a reason for him to be considered trust worthy if he can’t keep his dick in his pants.” Tywald japed.

They howled with laughter at that, then Tion came and sat down next to him. He looked a little rough around the edges. “Sleep alright?” Jaehaerys asked. Tion was a lot quieter than his older brother, but just as smart.

“Yeah, though someone kept banging against the wall.” Tion replied, looking at his brother.

Tywald laughed. “Sorry, brother, I did tell the wench to stay quiet.”

Jaehaerys roared with laughter. “Which wench?” There had been quite a few good looking serving girls, and even noble girls here, but he didn’t think Tywald would’ve chosen the latter, he had brains.

“Some girl called Miranda, I’m supposed to be meeting her again tonight.” Tywald replied.

“Miranda?” Jaehaerys asked.

“The one with massive tits.” Roger said.

“Oh!” Jaehaerys replied, he turned to Tywald and slapped him on the shoulder. “Good lad!”

“What about you, Your Royal Highness? Have you found anyone to your liking?” Roger asked.

Jaehaerys shook his head. “I’m taken, Roger, betrothed to a Blackfyre Princess.” The thought unsettled him constantly.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t have a bit of fun before you get married. No woman wants a virgin.” Roger supplied.

Jaehaerys laughed, he knew the argument Roger made, for it was one that Maekar had himself made a few times, despite being younger than him. Maekar had slept with some two or three women, wenches from the kitchens. “I know, yet I don’t feel comfortable with it. It just seems wrong.”

Before Roger could reply, Lonnel Snow appeared, the man was dressed in armour from head to foot. “Your Royal Highness, my lords, you had best start packing your things.”

“Why Ser, where are we going?” Jaehaerys asked.

“To Starpike. Lord Peake has raised the red banner.” Lonnel replied.

Jaehaerys looked at the man he had known his entire life, and then at his friends. The red banner was a sign of rebellion and had last been seen when Dorne had rebelled against Daeron the Young Dragon. “Shit.” He whispered.


	146. Titus Peake

** Chapter 146: Titus Peake **

****

The red banner flew proudly over the walls of Starpike, and Titus Peake, Lord of Starpike, felt a shiver run through him as he looked at it. Contrary to what his Lannister born wife might think, this was not a decision he had taken lightly. The red banner had last been flown when Dorne had killed Daeron the Young Dragon, Titus had not been alive then, nor had his father, but he had heard the stories from his grandsire, about how the Dornish had killed the King, and flown the banner, and the destruction that had come. He knew what it meant, and he knew what would come. What had already come. His outriders said the King’s army, compiled of five thousand men from the standing army, and three thousand men of Westermen and Reachermen origin was approaching him.

Starpike had thick walls, and was designed to withstand a siege. On the back of the Dornish marches, it was prepared for war, and the people were ready to die for what he believed in. The rebellion and the red banner were part of his plan. He did not accept the peace between Targaryen and Blackfyre, but that was not why he rebelled. He had been visited by the Wood’s Witch who had told him of the glory that would be his if he did this. And after the humiliation that his grandfather and father had wrought upon the house, a bit of glory was long overdue. The red banner had been raised and now here they were.

A messenger hurried forward, bowed and said. “They are coming, my lord.”

Titus nodded. Turned to Ser Willem Flowers, his bastard cousin and said. “Prepare the barrels.” The man nodded and hurried off to bark commands. The barrels of oil and rock, would destroy most anyone who came their way, that’s how he’d earned his first killed, throwing one of those barrels at a Dornish whoreson, some ten years ago.

The army was approaching, the infantry at the front, in conventional formation, with lion banners and Targaryen banners flying high. Both banners made him angry. His wife had gone with their sons to her sister’s residence in Appleton, where she thought they’d be safe. He respected her choice, the family did indeed need to survive after all. When the army got close enough, he drew his sword, the signal for the archers to begin. He did not want to exchange words with the foe below, he’d said as much as he wanted to.

The archers loaded their crossbows, took aim then fired. One by one the frontline fell, but the army remained stationery, nobody fled, there were no barked commands. Titus had to admit he was impressed. Aerion Targaryen had instilled discipline where previously there had been chaos. Had the man not been a Targaryen, Titus liked to think that they would have gotten along. The archers continued unleashing their arrows, as the enemy returned fire. Titus watched as his men were cut down, with others coming to replace them. The moment he got the feeling that the field was about to change, he called for an end.

“Prepare the rocks.” He roared, and the order was passed down. He felt the ground shake beneath him, as the infantry moved their way forward, bringing with them battering rams. No treubechets, for which he was thankful, and somewhat surprised, given the King’s reputation. The ground continued to shake, and rocks were thrown alongside the barrels. He saw a lion banner go down, and smiled. He heard another cry and another banner fall, then the gates were broken, and he was down there, fighting.

He had always preferred fighting with a hammer than anything else. It gave him greater scope to fight, and he was strong. He threw himself into the fight. Infantrymen fell down, breaking themselves on the steps and the stones. Rocks were thrown, some hit his men, others hit the enemy. He killed a man he could’ve sworn was Gerold Lannister, from his size and height. He killed another man who looked mightily like a Banefort, with their haunted man sigil. His hammer sung as it whirled its way through the field. He was looking for the King. Find the King, kill the King, end the war right there and then.

The King did not seem to be anywhere near him, which was disappointing, he did not think the King was a coward. Still, he killed a fair few of the army, which was always nice. He didn’t like them, they were puffed up peasants who thought they were better than him, because they got a nice wage, and a nice title. Frivolous idiots. The King should’ve stuck to the old ways, or pursued the policies his grandsire would’ve followed. The hammer rang another blow into the arms of the enemy, he was now covered in blood, and loving every single moment of it.

He took an arrow to the leg. Looked up and saw some brat with silver hair laughing at him. He roared and charged toward the brat, only to get another arrow in the leg. Then a figure came and smashed his face. His helmet broke. “You were looking for me?” The King snarled. His morning star smashed into Titus again and again. His hammer lay limply at his side. He tried to move but could not, eventually, the King knocked him to his knees, he screamed as the arrows dug into his skin. Titus felt the hammer drop, and his helmet being removed. He looked around, and half the castle was in ruins


	147. Aerion XXV

** Chapter 147: Aerion XXV **

****

The maesters had tended to the wounds he had taken during the storming of Starpike, yet they still stung when he moved. He was not as young as he once had been, and was not as able to shake off the bite of war as easily. Still, here he was, in a command tent set up outside the ruins of Starpike, about to give judgement to the man and his family who had raised the red banner and broken every known law in the realm. He cleared his throat and said. “Bring them in.”

The prisoners were dragged forward, all of them in chains. The herald announced them. “Lord Titus Peake of Starpike, his cousin Ser Willem Flowers and his brother Ser Gormond Peake.”  The men stopped before him. Aerion wore black and red, the crown atop his head. He took a breath then spoke.

“You stand accused of treason, of raising the red banner of war and breaking the King’s peace. You have been defeated and many of your men and family slain due to your actions. You have the chance to plead your case.” Aerion watched as Peake’s face twitched, there was hatred there, he remembered something his father had once told him, that the Peakes were hard as iron, and to defeat them, you had to break them. It seemed with the destruction of Starpike that had happened.

Titus Peake said nothing, but his brother Gormund did. “We decided to show you that we would not be pushed around. Your sheriffs come and they make demands, and the peasants make demands. We have ruled Starpike for thousands of years, far longer than your dynasty has lived in Westeros. We are tired of taking orders from you.”

There was some murmuring and Lord Tywald Lannister, recently ennobled due to the death of his father, stomped forward, being restrained by his brother. Aerion looked at Ser Gormund. “You decided to raise the red banner of war against the throne, due to some petty grievance, is that why?”

Gormund Peake simply stared at him. “I know why I rebelled. The land we live on is not yours, it was never yours, we simply ensured that we paid our taxes for the land.”

There was even more murmuring there, and Aerion felt a slight pain in his ear from where some idiot had hit him. He looked at Lord Titus who had remained quiet throughout all of this. “And you, Lord Titus, what reason do you have for rebelling?”

It was Ser Willem Flowers who answered this time. “To break free from pain and doubt and to ensure that we knew where we stood within the order of society.” The man had lost a hand during the fighting, and continued. “We are not people to bend easily, we needed to know whether we could push the boundaries. The red banner has become a symbol for something and as of right now, we know where we stand.”

“And where do you stand now?” Aerion asked, intrigued, this was not something he had fully expected.

Ser Willem Flowers sighed. “On the brink of death. I do not expect to survive this fight, and neither does my cousin.”

Aerion turned back to Lord Peake, and he asked once more. “Lord Peake, why did you rebel? I have heard from both your brother and cousin about why they joined you in their rebellion, and yet you have not said why you rebelled. I would be interested to know what caused you to rebel.”

Lord Peake opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again, his words coming out slowly and thoughtfully. “I have been alive for less years than you have. My father was executed for supporting the Blackfyre pretenders. I have been raised in the belief of the Blackfyre claim to the throne, but they gave up that claim a few years ago. I am angry and tired, and I wish only to do something that would ensure our standing would not fall. We used to be a great house once, and now we are nothing. And I did not want that fate for my son.”

“So, to make a name for yourself and the family, you decided to do what? To rebel against the throne that has been generous and ensure that you remained afloat despite numerous examples of your family’s treachery, and to raise the red banner, a flag with connotations going back before the unification of Dorne with the realm.” Aerion said. “I am sorry, my lord, but that is quite the pathetic reason for rebelling.”

Lord Titus Peake raised and lowered his shoulder. “You do not know what it has been like here.”

“Then explain.” Aerion commanded. He hated it when someone said that, how could they expect him to understand where they were coming from if they did not discuss it.

Lord Peake looked surprised as if he had not genuinely thought that the King would come out asking him to explain his position. The man hesitated and then said. “We have grown up fearing for our lives, my father was a fool who took my three older brothers with him to their graves. My mother went mad, and committed suicide when I was but a child, and then I was raised by my uncle. Gormund and I fought to keep our family afloat. And then the Blackfyres betrayed their supporters, and here we are.”

Aerion sighed. “You should have written forward to the throne, and asked for assistance, then I am sure it would have been forthcoming. But you did not. Instead you decided to take action in a manner that has resulted in the death of your family and the death of the house. With this in mind, as King, I order your execution alongside that of your brother and cousin. Your son shall become a ward of the crown, and Starpike is to remain in ruins from this day forth until seen otherwise.” Lord Peake said nothing except to bow his head. “Take them to the gallows.” Aerion commanded, once everyone had filed he slumped down in the chair.


	148. Donnor XI

** Chapter 148: Donnor XI **

****

Donnor took the book off the shelf and made his way to the table. He had rarely ventured into Winterfell’s library since he was a child. That had been more Errold’s thing, and his younger brother was now in the Dreadfort, as Lord of that castle, and with his own library. He’d not heard from his brother for some time, he hoped the Bolton retainers hadn’t eaten him alive. Donnor snorted, that was always something amusing to think about, the different paths that the sons of Beron Stark had taken. Donnor had survived war and rebellion, and was now Lord of Winterfell, the north was producing gold at levels to rival the Lannisters, and other materials such as Iron, which were being used for other weapons, they had the Ironborn under their control, for the crown. Willam lived at court with his wife and three children, seemingly enjoying the festivities and the fun. He had made a good impression as a politician. Artos was Donnor’s right hand man, his enforcer, and his sons Brandon and Benjen were growing into fine young men. Then there was Errold, Lord of the Dreadfort, not a warrior but smart and book fascinated. Finally, there was Rodrik, who continued to wander around Westeros and Essos, he had sent a letter from Lorath, speaking of his fight against monkey like people, an interesting tale. Donnor’s sisters had married well, Berena to Lord Reed, and Alysanne to Lord Yronwood, a different marriage, but arranged with the King to keep the Martells in check.

He blinked, opened up the book and began to read. Why he was doing this, he did not know, but he had had the urge to read this particular book for some time, and he felt perhaps it was time to see why. _Once, a great many years ago, there was war, but not between the First Men and the Children as is so often told, but between the Children themselves. They were a vast and powerful people divided between the lands that we now know as the Seven Kingdoms. They held many differences but also many similarities, just like the inhabitants of the Seven Kingdoms do today. They fought over land, over women and over coin, but not the sort of coin that we know of. Instead they dwelt in sacrifice and other such things._

_They worshipped the trees and beings known as greenseers, who records show had been here long before the Children had come. Indeed, it is my estimation that they were the original inhabitants of these fair lands, and that the children were indeed their children. The Greenseers were gods, and they were seen to hold special power over the weather and the seasons. Legend amongst the children states that once when one Greenseer named Bor lusted after a member of the King of the Children’s daughters, he took her and made her his own. The King declared war, and burned the godswoods around his land, for which Bor grew very angry, and declared an eternal winter. In the darkness and in their fright, the children prayed and prayed, but Bor and the other greenseers did not break the winter. That was when they sent a message to the First Men._

_The histories of the citadel suggest that the First Men moved west to escape some sort of terrible ailment, and whilst that might be true, it is also true that the Children played a great part in bringing them here. Using dreams and visions, and the promise of a fair land. The First Men were lured here, and then decided to take what they thought was theirs. Led by Brandon of the Bloody blade they carved their way through the Children and tore down their woods and their lands. The Children fought back, and created something that was perhaps best described as a monstrosity. Things of such evil that could never be undone. They fed on the dead, and brought them to life again, and when the Children realised what they had done, they tried to undo it, but could not. Therefore, they approached Brandon’s grandson, Garth of the Greenhand, and asked him to help. Garth a fine soldier knew he could not defeat them easily, and therefore, he forged a sword, and twice did it fail, and twice did he die, but he was brought back, and on the third time, he killed his lady love Elenei, and on that third try he defeated the darkness._

Now that was something, all previous accounts he’d read did not give a name to the legendary hero, he continued reading. _When the time came, after the darkness retreated, and Bor finally agreed to lift the winter, a pact was signed involving all three beings. The children led by their King, the greenseers led by Bor, and the First Men led by Garth Greenhand, they agreed to a peace, and that one of their number would always be a greenseer to ensure that they would know should a darkness ever return from beyond the lands of winter. With that things came to a relative peace, until he whose name is lost to us became commander of the Night’s Watch._

_The Night’s Watch whose history is long and chequered even now, are not important to this history, but what is important is that the thirteenth Lord Commander became mad with grief after the death of his lover, whose name is also lost to history. He began sacrificing new recruits to those who dwell on the fringes, and at one point, in an attempt to stop the darkness spreading, Buri, son of Bor in his wisdom created a woman from the darkness itself, and sent her to the man. And yet this did nothing. Instead, it brought more suffering and darkness, and this woman was eventually defeated thanks to Buri, Joramun of the Free Folk and King Brandon, whose brother had died under the man’s auspices. The man was slain, and his ashes scattered across the land, but the woman, she was far harder to kill, and it took a powerful Child of the Forest named Leaf to subdue her and bring her in. She was hidden away deep within an alcove, though now, now it seems she has escaped._

_To any reading this now, know that she is short, with mixed emotions, but the ability to change. If you should see her, kill her, and make sure to do it quickly, before she has the chance to emerge in her true form._

Donnor stopped reading. His heart beat racing, he knew that description, he knew where this being was. He got up, grabbing the book, he grabbed a bag from a servant and threw the book inside it. He ordered for his horse to be readied, and when it was he sped off, ignoring questions and shouts. He stopped when he got to a small cave, and for some reason thought of his son Ellard, with his one green eye and one grey eye. He got off his horse and approached the cave. She was there waiting for him. “I wondered when you’d come. I am ready to be taken to the King.”


	149. Aerion XXVI

** Chapter 149: Aerion XXVI **

****

Aerion took a breath, adjusted his position on the throne, then said. “Bring the prisoner in.” There was a bang on the door, it opened, and the guards brought the prisoner in. She was chained, with a collar being pulled forward, and two chains being held by two other guards. She was brought before the throne, stopping in the centre of the throne room. She had one green eye and one purple eye, and her hair was a mess. Aerion looked at the woman, and then at Donnor Stark off to the side. “This is the prisoner you brought?” He asked, making sure.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Donnor Stark said, the man had arrived four days ago, covered in sweat and blood, having ridden all the way from Winterfell, with someone he claimed was the Witch. Aerion had almost forgotten about her, until she’d been right before him.

“Very well.” Aerion replied. He looked at the witch and said. “You are accused of stirring up trouble and encouraging Lord Peake and countless others to treason. You are accused of encouraging Septon Beron to rebel against the Faith and his vows. You have countless other crimes against you. What is your response to this?”

The woman-was she a woman? - smiled, and her teeth showed. “Only that I am glad to finally have met you, Your Majesty. I have long been waiting for this moment.”

Aerion fought back the unease he felt at her words, and asked her. “Why did you commit the crimes that you are accused of? And why have you been waiting to meet me?” He had a feeling that this woman either was not right in the head, or that she was something else. He’d found one of Daeron’s journals-he’d not even known his brother had kept journals- which described seeing this woman during one of his visions, and he’d hinted at something else.

The woman laughed. “I committed those crimes because it is within my nature. Your master of whispers should know that, he has seen me in his visions, of that I am sure.” Aerion looked at Bloodraven who paled slightly. “I am a woman who does things for chaos and for fun, but also for darkness. I was forged by the Greenseer Buri, and I was made for a man whose name was removed from the records of time, for the very crime that Buri had allowed to be committed by his own son.”

Aerion stared at the woman, he was beginning to think he was right in that she was mad. “Who is this Buri you speak of?” He did not say that greenseers did not exist, Bloodraven’s mere existence proved that point moot.

The woman smiled, her chains rattled. “Buri is the one who became a legend. He helped create the force to end the Night’s King and the darkness my husband brought with him.”

Aerion looked at the woman and repressed a laugh. “You are mad, my lady, you expect myself and the court to believe that you are the Night King’s wife, the being whose name was struck off of record for the very sacrifice and acts that you condemned in your own spies and workers. You expect me to believe that you are that thing from legend. For starters, you are far smaller than one would think.” The moment he said that Aerion regretted it, for the woman started to laugh.

“Oh Your Majesty, come now, we both know that this is not my true form, but the form I was given when my love was defeated. If you truly wish to see my true form, then you will have to remove these chains.” The woman said.

Aerion looked at the woman and said. “I will settle for hearing this history from you then, if you are who you claim to be.”

The woman laughed. “I had thought as much, you are far too smart to allow such power to be untamed.” The woman cleared her throat then continued. “I was the wife of another hero before I became my love’s wife. I was wife to Gorm, the first Greenseer, but he banished me in favour of a child of the forest, I was wife to Garth Greenhand and my love sacrificed me to defeat the darkness that the Children had created. And then when I had thought I had been allowed to rest, I was created once again by Buri, a boy I had helped raise, to become the wife of my love, the Night’s King as you call him. But whilst he was defeated, I was cast aside, shrunk into this form you see now.” The woman waved her hands about. “I was reduced into nothingness, and for that I hated the men of the realm. I retained my power though, and so I became Elenei who Durran Godsgrief challenged the gods for. I became Alyssa who wept when her brothers were slain. I became Brandon Stark’s wife, and I became Lann the Clever at turns also. I became all those who would trick and torment, but also love and nurture.” The woman continued. “I waited for you though, for I knew that this moment would come. You would end my suffering and send me home to my love. For millennia, I have waited.”

Aerion looked at the woman and bit back another laugh, she was mad, stark raving mad. Deciding to humour her, he said. “For your crimes you are to be sentenced to execution, and to ensure that you do not escape, you shall be executed here.” There were murmurs at that, but most of them seemed approving. She was forced down onto her knees, and the executioner came, he took a swing, but the sword broke on her neck. He blinked, the court murmured, he took another sword and the same thing happened. Before he could do it a third time, the woman spoke.

“Only you have the power to do this.”

“Why?” Aerion demanded.

“Because that was how it was ordained all those years ago, when I swore the vow to your ancestor, the Conqueror.” The woman replied. “Only the Blood of the Dragon would kill me, when I decided it was my time to die.” There were more murmurs then.

Aerion stood, walked down the steps of the throne, stopped before the woman, called for a dagger, and then said. “You are hereby sentenced to die.” He plunged his dagger deep into the woman’s chest, pulled the dagger out, then walked behind her,pressed the dagger to the top of her neck and in one fluid motion slit it. He stood back and watched her fall, the holders of her chains moving back quickly. “Remove her.” he commanded, as he handed the dagger back and walked back up to sit on the throne.


	150. Aelora X

** Chapter 150: Aelora X **

****

Aelora stood at Aerion’s side watching as the guests arrived into the courtyard. Her husband wasn’t nervous, but she was somewhat. This was it, the final piece of everything they had worked for. Over the next few days, their son and daughter would be married to the Blackfyre Prince and Princess, and something that started forty years ago would finally officially come to an end. It was something she had never thought she would ever see. Aerion took her hand and squeezed it. Then he let go and stepped forward as the guests dismounted from their horses. Aelora listened as her husband greeted their guests.

“Welcome to Westeros and to King’s Landing. I hope that your journey went as well as one can hope for, and that everything will be to your liking. I wish you a time of rest before the meal this evening. My steward shall show you to your rooms.”

King Haegon, who looked awfully like Uncle Maekar had, spoke  in response. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” With that there were some greetings and then the Blackfyres were taken to their rooms. They would be staying in the right corner of Maegor’s Holdfast, otherwise known as the White Dragon Wing for the white dragons that were engraved on the walls. Aelora walked with her husband back to their rooms shortly after that, and during the interim, they prepared for the evening feast. When it did come around, Aelora found herself on King Haegon’s arm, as Aerion walked with Queen Talisa on his.

King Haegon was courteous, saying little, they entered the throne room, where a great banquet had been prepared, they sat down, Aelora to her husband’s left. Her husband rose and gave a speech, and then they tucked into their food. As they did so, Aelora turned to Queen Talisa and spoke. “I hope everything is going well enough, I imagine things must be very different to Volantis.”

Queen Talisa nodded. “Some things are, the bathing system took some time getting used to, but other than that, everything is going well. I really like the way the White Dragon rooms have been laid out.” The lady paused and then asked. “Did you have a hand in them?”

Aelora smiled, happy that someone had mentioned this, they’d had the Starks visiting and they’d said nothing. “Yes, I’m happy you like them. It took some time to get the layout right, and Aerion didn’t understand why it needed to be done.”

“So, your man is like that as well is he?” Talisa replied. “I wanted to remodel parts of the fire pit within the great palace in Volantis, and Haegon just couldn’t understand why. For all their greatness in terms of politics and military strategy, they really don’t understand appearances, do they?”

Aelora laughed. “No, they really don’t. Which is odd when you think about it, because surely having grown up in military environments they would know more about how important your surroundings appearances are to the impression you make.”

“Maybe it’s to do with all that time focusing on armour and boots, and not enough time on buildings?” Talisa suggested. “I did have Rohanne focus on the appearance of things in terms of design, we don’t want any sort of nonsense with these new designers proposing ridiculous features.”

“You have that issue as well?” Aelora asked surprised.

“Oh gods, yes, the designers seem to have lost all common sense recently. One of them proposed something called a loop of fire around the palace, which would have cost a lot of money, looked ugly and would have been a definitive safety hazard. I had to fire him before he got anywhere near Haegon.” Talisa said.

“There was a designer who came to see me, told me that the Red Keep needed something called a flying buttress, said it would make everything look more beautiful. I asked him how much it would cost, and he said some exorbitant amount that made me spit out my drink at the time.” Aelora said. “I also had to throw him out before he got to Aerion.”

Talisa laughed. “What would our husbands do without us?”

Aelora smiled, the food continued to be served and the drink flowed freely, she was beginning to like Talisa. Curious about something she had heard about Volantis, she asked the other Queen. “Is it true that within Volantis there is a wall made completely of the same Black marble found in Oldtown?” She had read about this once or twice before, but had never been quite sure what to make of it.

Talisa nodded. “Yes, I think so. It was a substance used quite commonly during the Freehold’s time, and as such I think the wall was built during the freehold itself. Nobody knows just what it is made of, but it does seem to have lasted.” At that moment Shiera Seastar walked passed them, her husband with her. Talisa’s face tightened slightly. “What are they like?” She asked, clearly referring to Bloodraven and his wife.

Aelora sighed, since the ending of the Wood’s Witch threat, her followers had been found and executed, Dragonglass had been discovered in abundance in Dragonstone and various other places and was being produced in great quantities, and old scrolls had been found which spoke some of what she had said. Bloodraven had been tasked with handling that, and his wife had helped, other than that they did not usually attend court. “They are decent people, a bit strange, but then aren’t we all. I am sure you have someone like Bloodraven in Volantis.”

Talisa nodded. “We do, my goodbrother Baelon, he is very close to Haegon, and ventures into various different realms. It’s all a bit strange to me.”

Aelora nodded. Her husband stood up then and said. “My lords and ladies, Your Majesties, the hour is late. Let us retire for the evening and wake fresh and early for the weddings tomorrow.” There was a cheer for that, and Aelora walked back with her husband to their chambers, as they did so, she said. “I like Talisa, she seems a decent lady.”

“Haegon a decent man also.” Aerion said in agreement.


	151. Dyanna

** Chapter 151: Dyanna **

****

Dyanna felt slightly nervous as the doors to Baelor’s Sept opened. This was a day she’d been preparing for, her entire life. Her wedding day. Her brother and she were getting married in a joint ceremony to Rohanne and Daemon Blackfyre, to seal a political deal that their fathers had made many years ago. Her father smiled at her, the lines under his eyes crinkling. She looked passed him to where Rohanne stood with her father, and they smiled at one another. She liked the other girl and thought she’d make a good wife to Jaehaerys, she was kind and outgoing and interested in politics, much like her brother. Father walked through first, as did King Haegon, and then Dyanna and Rohanne followed, they approached and the entire room went silent.

The High Septon called out. “Who comes?”

“Dyanna of House Targaryen.” Father said.

“Rohanne of House Blackfyre.” King Haegon said.

“And who claims her?” Both Father and King Haegon asked.

“I, Daemon of House Blackfyre do.” Prince Daemon said, smiling at her, she felt her heart flutter, he was very attractive.

“I, Jaehaerys of House Targaryen do.” Jaehaerys said to Rohanne.

Father let go of her and she stepped forward to stand opposite Daemon, whilst Rohanne did the same to get near Jaehaerys.

The High Septon nodded. “We are gathered here today for the most wonderful of occasions. The marriage of four people who are committed to this, the most holy and divine of institutions. Marriage is a commitment to another person and to the Seven Who Are One. It is a commitment to ensure that you will love and care for one another through thick and thin. As Septa Eleanor once remarked to Hugor of the Hill, to marry is to make the ultimate sign of devotion.” The High Septon clasped his hands together and said. “If there is anyone here who believes that these four people should not be married, let them speak now, or forever hold their peace.” Nobody spoke, and therefore the High Septon continued. “You may now make your vows.”

Daemon turned and looked at her. “I, Daemon of House Blackfyre, do promise to love and care for you. To protect you, and offer you counsel and to listen to you from this day forth and till my last. I will do everything I can to ensure that our lives are pleasant and that our days are filled with joy. I swear this before the Gods, old and new, of fire and water.”

Dyanna replied. “I, Dyanna of House Targaryen, do promise to love and care for you. To protect you, offer my counsel and to bear your children. I promise to tend to your hearth and home, and to do everything within my power to ensure that your burden is lessened from this day to our last. I swear this before the Gods, old and new, of fire and water.” She had written her own vows, and wanted to show that she was serious, as the daughter of the King of Westeros, she knew this would be important.

Jaehaerys and Rohanne finished exchanging their vows, and the High Septon spoke once more. “Now, we are approaching a time where these four people shall begin their lives together and ensure that their commitment to one another is strengthened. That is something that should be applauded, and admired. There is not much more that must need be said, other than to wish them well on their lives together. I and the Congregation of the Seven, wish you all the best with everything that is to come.” The High Septon paused, then continued. “You may now kiss.” The rings were placed on their fingers, and then Daemon removed her veil and placed a chaste kiss to her lips.

There were cheers inside the Sept, they walked out of the Sept, hand in hand, and stood on the steps with Jaehaerys and Rohanne, there was a large crowd gathered below, who cheered and celebrated with them. Dyanna smiled, and laughed when Daemon leaned over and said. “I feel like a circus animal.”

She looked at him and said. “A very handsome one.” She giggled as he blushed and at her own boldness.

“Kiss!” came the cries, Dyanna looked at her husband-that felt good to think and say- and he smiled, they leaned toward one another and kissed, as did Jaehaerys and Rohanne. They then made their way to the carriages that were waiting for them. Dyanna and Daemon in one, and Jaehaerys and Rohanne in another. It was going to be a good day.

 


	152. Haegon XII

** Chapter 152: Haegon XII **

****

They had made their way up from the Great Sept, a place he briefly remembered visiting as a very young child, in carriages, they travelled, passed cheering crowds and the guards who looked as if for once they were happy. It was a strange sight for Haegon, when he had been younger he had always thought that the only time he would come to King’s Landing was on the back of a successful military campaign, and he’d either be Prince, or King. And yet here he was, as a King, attending a wedding in King’s Landing, not his own but his two eldest children. They’d left their youngest children behind in Volantis in Baelon’s supervision. The wedding had gone off without a problem, something he was thankful for.

They’d arrived back at the Red Keep, freshened up, and then made their way to the throne room, where Aerion Targaryen-a man Haegon found he actually quite liked- was stood to give a speech. Haegon listened as Aerion Targaryen spoke. “My lords and ladies, I would like to thank you all, for the past three days we have feasted and celebrated and today is the culmination of that. Our children are married and the peace we first agreed upon many years ago has finally been rewarded. I think it fair to say that today has been a very good day.” He raised his cup. “To the newlyweds.” Haegon echoed his toast, Aerion sat down, and he then decided to get up and speak.

“I would like to thank King Aerion for being a very splendid host. He has made myself and my family feel very welcome here. I would like to thank him for being the first to reach out during those long hours, many years ago, to offer a branch of peace.” Haegon paused then, allowing himself to get his thoughts in order. “It has been many years since my father passed away. He was misled, and as such suffered the consequences for that, as did my three oldest brothers. I promised myself that I would never put my family through that ever again. I think that with these marriages that that has been achieved, and for that I will forever be grateful.” He took a breath then addressed the newlyweds. “And now, to Jaehaerys and Rohanne, and Daemon and Dyanna, I say, you are about to embark on a very interesting journey. One that will have its ups and downs, as all things in life do. But as long as you work together and ensure that you always listen to one another, you should be okay.” He raised his wine cup. “To the newlyweds!” there was a loud cheer then, and then he sat down and food was served.

Aerion looked at him and smiled. “A great speech, cousin.”

“Thank you, cousin.” Haegon replied. It still felt very strange to call the man that. He hesitated and then said. “I meant what I said just now though. Thank you for being the first one to reach out. I am not sure where we would have been had you not done so.”

Aerion waved a hand. “You were the one who reached out first. I merely made sure that I had everything in order before responding.” The man seemed to think on that and then continued. “I do not think we would’ve continued warring either way, had you not made that first entreaty.”

“I agree, I think that once Aegor Rivers got captured, the fight for the throne died with him. There was something truly wrong with him. Though it does no good to think on the past.” Haegon said.

“Agreed.” The man replied. “Tell me, what will you do when you return. You have pacified Lys and Tyrosh and brought them under your wing, Braavos has good relations with you, Lorath, Pentos and Myr the same. The Dothraki fear you, and the red priests are gone from this world. Is there anything else you wish to achieve?”

Haegon laughed. “I think I need to ensure that the land I rule is well administered and prepared for when my son takes over.” Haegon took a sip of wine, and then asked. “And what of you? Your reforms have gone over quite well, the lords are all under your control. Is there anything else you wish to achieve?”

“The same as you, I simply wish to ensure everything remains stable and organised, so that my son may inherit a peaceful and plentiful Kingdom.” Aerion replied.

Haegon nodded, he could respect that. They turned their attentions toward eating the foot set before them, occasionally making the odd comment to one another. He could hear his children and their spouses talking animatedly to one another, and he could hear his wife talking animatedly with Queen Aelora and that made him smile. His thoughts were interrupted by someone standing up and saying. “Sires, the food has been drunk, the wine consumed, I say it is time for the consummations!”

Aerion looked at him. “King Haegon?”

“I would say that that is so.” Haegon replied.

The King nodded. “Then to bed with them!” There was a mighty roar of approval as the newlyweds were picked up and led away to their chambers. Haegon laughed softly, oh to be young and foolish.

 


	153. Rohanne

** Chapter 153: Rohanne **

****

It was the morning after the wedding and Rohanne could not stop smiling. She had been anxious, she could admit that much. There was much to be anxious about. Westeros was foreign to her, Westerosi was her second language, and her now husband was a man who she had been thinking about since she was a child. She had been worried that he might not live up to her expectations and she him. Yet the wedding week-for that was what it was, even if it had only been four days- had proven her wrong in her fears. Jaehaerys was kind and considerate and they shared an interest in politics and history. They’d spent a great many hours talking about Valyria, and Essos and Westeros. Truly it was brilliant.

She heard her husband stir at her side and smiled again. “Morning.” She heard him say.

“Morning.” She replied.

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked.

“Yes, though I enjoyed last night.” Rohanne replied blushing slightly.

Jaehaerys smiled. “As did I.” there was a pause, and then impulsively she leaned down and kissed him.

She pulled back and whispered. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Her husband replied.

There was a knock on the door. “What?” her husband demanded.

“Your Royal Highnesses, Their Majesties have requested your presence down at the throne room for breakfast.” Came the response.

Jaehaerys sighed, and Rohanne giggled. “I think we should get ready my husband.” Rohanne said.

“I think so as well.” Jaehaerys said. They rose together, and got changed together, with Jaehaerys occasionally kissing her and she him. When they were changed and dressed, the door opened and walked out, arm in arm. Rohanne felt her heart sing at the thought of being his wife. As they walked, her husband asked. “So, are there any sights or books that you’d like to see or read? There are quite a few in the library, that I think you would be interested in. Costayne’s history of Balthasar definitely is something that you’d be interested in I think.”

“You have Costayne’s history?” Rohanne asked. “I’ve been looking for that book for most of my life. I’ve never known for a copy to exist outside a few places. How did you get it?”

She saw her husband smile. “I found a man in Oldtown who had a copy, he said he’d bought it from a ragged looking old man. He was an alchemist, the man I got it from, not the ragged old man. I think the ragged old man was named Martheyu or some such strange name.”

“Do you think the thesis within his book is correct?” Rohanne asked. She’d read commentary on the thesis within the book several times, and all of them disagreed on some things and agreed on others. But she was curious as to what her husband, having read the actual book thought.

“I think that Costayne was a man of his times who believed many things that were considered unorthodox, and threw out many things considered the opposite. I think given the thing that my father found that claimed to be a Wood’s Witch, that Costayne might well have been right in his estimation of Balthasar.” Her husband replied.

Rohanne nodded. “I think I agree, there is another source, that is buried deep within the vaults of Volantis, written by a man named Moqorro. It talks about how Balthasar was a man of many talents and how he helped the greenseers in their initial work. And how he danced with the Lion of the Night.”

“There were greenseers in Volantis?” Jaehaerys asked.

“There were what you would call greenseers.” Rohanne replied. “I think it would perhaps be more accurate to call them sight seers. They could see things and sometimes could act on them. It was not something I think the greenseers here could do.”

Her husband looked intrigued. “How interesting.” They arrived at the entrance to the throne room, to find Daemon and Dyanna there as well. Rohanne nodded to her brother and smiled at Dyanna, then all four of them walked through into the throne room. The herald announced them, and then they walked up, bowed before the two Kings and took their respective seats.

King Aerion as the host stood and spoke. “Let us now eat and feast as family.”

“Hear, hear!” was the response and soon food was served. As they ate, Rohanne asked her husband another question.

“Is it true that the seasons here are just as volatile as they are in Essos?”

Jaehaerys laughed. “Oh definitely. I think that is one thing that we might need to prepare for. The winters can be bitterly cold and creep up on you unexpectedly.”

Rohanne shivered. “Gods.” Her husband laughed, then kissed her nose.

“Never fear, dear wife, I shall be here to protect you.”

“Oh what would I do without you?” Rohanne said, placing a hand on her husband’s arm.

She heard her father clear his throat. “If you two are done, would you mind passing the butter?” Rohanne blushed, Jaehaerys laughed and did as asked.

 


	154. Daemon The Younger

** Chapter 154: Daemon The Younger **

****

They’d arrived back in Volantis after a nice wedding, some six weeks ago, but then he’d been swamped with work to do. As heir to the growing Blackfyre empire, he had to oversee the empire, attend council meetings and meet with various ambassadors and representatives. It was busy work, and he’d regrettably not been able to spend much time with Dyanna beyond their nightly couplings, which were very enjoyable to him, and he hoped they were for her. Thankfully, father had agreed to give him the day off, and so he and Dyanna were to take a tour around Volantis, to show her the sights.

They were mounted on his trusted steed Greyfire, with Dyanna in front of him, her head resting on his chest. The Kingsguard were around them. As they rode the streets people cheered them. “They seem to really like you.” Dyanna said.

Daemon laughed. “I think it’s you they like, Dyanna. They roared with approval when you arrived here.” That had been quite the sight. “And of course the alms that you’ve donated have helped as well.”

Dyanna laughed softly, and Daemon could tell she was blushing. “It was nothing really, the minimum I could have done really, given everything that has happened.”

“It was the thought that counted. The people of Volantis appreciate the thought of the gesture.” Daemon replied, they rode on in silence for a time, then he spoke again. “The red priests did a lot to damage the faith of the people during their time as advisors to the elephants, and the elephants themselves did much to bring about damage. And though my father has ruled over Volantis for nearly three decades now, there are still some who remember the old days, and shiver.” He remembered meeting an old woman who’d been alive for sixty years, who cried with joy when told the red priests were dead.

They continued riding through the streets, occasionally waving to one person or another, Dyanna was silent and so Daemon remained silent also, when they turned into one street, Dyanna gasped. “I’ve read about this place!” She turned to look at him in the saddle. “This is the Street of Gold is it not?”

Daemon nodded. “It is indeed. This is where the goldsmiths operate, and where merchants and traders come for a drink when they are done with work for a day. The finest ales and gold pieces are produced here. Do you wish to stay and look at some?”

Dyanna shook her head. “Just looking at the shops themselves will be fine enough for me.”

“Are you sure?” He asked her.

Dyanna turned back to face forward and nodded. “I am quite sure.” Daemon nodded to himself and urged his horse forward, as they rode on, Dyanna spoke again. “Is it true that your father set up the shops toward the middle of the street, to encourage former members of the Golden Company to settle down and become traders?”

Daemon smiled with pride. “Yes, my father knew that many former soldiers felt as though they weren’t going to be of use to anyone once they retired, so he knocked down the old buildings had new ones built and then gave some of the soldiers money with which to start businesses. They are some of the most successful in all of Essos, with customers in Volantis, her empire, and Slaver’s Bay.”

Dyanna asked a question he’d long been expecting. “What is the view of slaves within Volantis?” He knew that in Westeros slavery was considered abominable and disgraceful, but that the attitude here in Volantis and much of Essos with the exception of Braavos was different.

“Most of the nobility have kept one or two helpers since father released the slaves by declaration and destroyed the revolts. But some still deal with slaves. It is not something that will go away immediately, but over time.” Daemon said truthfully.

“And what do you make of slavery?” Dyanna asked.

Daemon did not answer immediately, but when he did reply, his voice was soft. “I believe that slavery is a great evil with no basis in religion or any code of law that I have yet found. I do believe that some slaves do not wish to be freed, but generally I would avoid slavery if I could.”

His wife hummed with contentment, and he breathed easily. They rode on in silence for most of the journey, and as they made their return to the palace, Dyanna spoke softly once more. “I received a letter from Jaehaerys today, as I am sure your father has as well. Rohanne is with child.”

“I know.” Daemon said, he did not say anything else, waiting to see what his wife would say.

Dyanna continued. “I think that I too might be with child.”

Daemon gasped slightly. “Are you sure?”

“I think so yes, I have not had my moon’s blood this time around, and the pains that usually come with it are not there.” Dyanna said.

Daemon stopped the horse, leaned over and kissed his wife’s cheek and said. “I am sure that it is true!”


	155. Aerion XXVII

** Chapter 155: Aerion XXVII **

****

Aerion coughed. His lungs were burning, but he knew he still had the one last great speech in him. He blinked, this had all started after his sixtieth nameday, and as such he was sure this was old age coming to catch up with him. Sixteen years after his son and daughter had gotten married to the Blackfyres, to seal the crowning achievement of his reign. Jaehaerys and Rohanne were a good Princely couple, and their four children were definitely the gem in the crown. Maekar had married Stark’s daughter and their rule over Summerhall was consolidated, Aelor was rising through the ranks and Aerion was sure that he would become Grand Maester soon, perhaps when Aemon had passed on. And then there was Alyssa, his beautiful Alyssa, she had married Jon Arryn, the new Lord of the Eyrie, and it seemed their marriage was good. Dyanna and her husband had produced seven children as well, and they had recently ascended the throne after Haegon had died.

He had formed a good friendship with the Blackfyre King in the end. Aerion coughed, then said. “Jaehaerys.” His firstborn son appeared at his side. “My son,” he took his son’s hand and said. “From the moment you entered this world you have been my pride and joy, I know you have the tools to become a great King, ensure that you listen to your wife, and to your councillors, and ensure that you never ever go to bed angry.”

“Yes, Father,” Jaehaerys said.

Aerion then waved his other children over. “Maekar, you are to be your brother’s rock. Ensure that you listen to them and provide him with counsel when the time is right, and never, ever forget where you come from.” Maekar bowed his head, hiding tears. “Aelor, you are the one who will bring great knowledge to the family, ensure that you learn everything you can from Aemon.” His son nodded. Alyssa cried as she came near him. “Do not forget your family.” He whispered to her.

He hugged her, and then his grandchildren, one by one, whispering soft things into their ears, to reassure them. He then lay back against the pillow, as Aegon and Aemon came. His brothers looked tired, just as he felt. “I always knew it would be you two who would remain out of the four brothers.” Aerion joked. “You both were always the smartest of us. I thank you for your years of service and your council. I trust you will advise Jaehaerys and guide him well.”

“Of course, brother.” They both replied.

Bloodraven, the old cunt came next, the man didn’t seem to have aged a day, whether that was due to some form of magic or not, he did not know, and truth be told he did not really care. “Your Majesty.” Bloodraven said, bowing his head.

“So, you have shown that you are indeed useful as master of whispers. I admit I did not like you all that much when I was younger, and I still don’t. But you have proven to be a useful servant to the crown, and a loyal one. I thank you for that. And your wife also. I know things have gone around and round between us, but truly, thank you for your service. I trust you will serve my son as you have served me.” Aerion said, it was becoming harder to breathe now.

“I will, Sire.” Bloodraven replied.

Aerion nodded, then waved a dismissal. The one person he wanted to see the most came then. She sat on the bed next to him, and took his hand in hers. Just as it had done all those years ago, his heart skipped a beat. “Aelora, my love.” He murmured. “You have been my closest companion, my friend and my greatest love, for my entire life. I thank the day you were born and the day you gave me a chance. I thank you for everything, I do not think I could express in words what you mean to me. My only regret is that I will not be here with you right till the end.”

Aelora wiped a tear from his cheek. “I know, my love. And I love you just as much as you do me. It is okay for you to depart now though, I know you are in pain. I will be here with you, right till the end, just as we promised all those years ago.”

Aerion smiled, coughed, then whispered. “I love you, and I always will.”

“I know.” His wife replied.

Aerion closed his eyes, he felt his breathing slow down, and as he slipped into sleep, he saw his father and mother, and Daeron, and the gates were beginning to open, there was a gold sunshine that hit his face. He turned back, Aelora was there, urging him forward. “I will see you again, Aelora.” He said.

“I know, my love. Now go, I will see you again.” Aelora replied.


End file.
